


safe and sound (even if the sky is falling down)

by sourpastels



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: (Eleven To Be Exact), Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Complicated Relationships, Enemies to Lovers, Established Relationship, Eventual Romance, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Multiple POV Characters, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Emotional Abuse/Manipulation, Polyamory, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Team as Family, Unrequited Love, okay so there's a lot of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2018-12-29 20:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 171,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12093015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourpastels/pseuds/sourpastels
Summary: “Woojin,” he says. “My name is Park Woojin.”“Come with us, Park Woojin,” Jisung replies, soft but insistent. “You’ll be safe, I promise.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I don't know how long this fic is going to be exactly, but It's going to be long. I don't know how often I'll update, I'm not the quickest writer as it is and I'm pretty busy with studying and stuff right now, but I'll do my best to not leave it hanging for weeks. 
> 
> Also, 99.99% of produce 101 trainees would make awful villains but a dumb au in need of villains is a dumb au in need of villains. Please know I love them all even if they appear to be awful people here. 
> 
> Other than that I don't know what to say other than I hope you enjoy it and please let me know if you do I guess!

Minhyun sighs as he flips past the end of the magazine for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. He knows he could be doing something else, the large TV is right in front of him, turned off. There are game consoles and his phone is in his pocket, but he’d find all of that no more satisfying than what he's doing right now. He drops the magazine on the table, restless, and sighs again.

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” Jisung asks. He’s sitting in a large armchair across from where Minhyun is reclining on the sofa, filling in some paperwork. They are the only two both here and awake right now, as is common this late on a weeknight.

“You know what’s gotten into me,” Minhyun answers flatly.

“Okay, true.” Jisung shrugs then puts his papers down to look straight at Minhyun. “It just doesn’t normally get to you like this.”

“I know it doesn’t,” Minhyun agrees with a sigh. “It’s just...all piling up again, I guess.”

Jisung nods understandingly. He is always understanding, even though unless there is something he isn’t telling Minhyun Jisung can’t actually relate to what's worrying him.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He asks.

“I just...need to get out for a bit, release some stress,” Minhyun says.

The police radio Jisung “borrowed” from work suddenly crackles.

“Perfect timing.” Jisung snorts, amused.

The deep voice on the other side of the radio says there is a robbery going on in the bank a few blocks away, the only one in the city open this late. The police don't know anything yet, like how many robbers there are or if they are armed or if there are hostages, they’d be going in blind.

He and Jisung would be doing them a favour going in for them.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure...actually, just one thing first.” Minhyun stands up and walks over to the crowded table tucked away in the corner and slips a small, silver device in his pocket. “Is it just gonna be us?”

Jisung thinks for a second then says “Eh, It doesn’t seem worth dragging anyone out of bed for it, they’ll just moan about their beauty sleep.”

“What about our beauty sleep?” Minhyun asks jokingly.

“We’re old. Sleep ain’t gonna help us,” Jisung says with a cheery smile.

“I’m 22!” Minhyun protests.

“And I’m only 26, doesn’t stop the kids calling me old!” Jisung grumbles, but Minhyun could hear the fondness in his voice for the same people he's pretending to complain about.

Jisung unlocks the car sitting in the driveway and they both climb in.  Sometimes Minhyun wishes that a car, albeit a top of the line one, wasn't the fastest form of transportation they had. Someone could get hurt in the time it takes to drive to a crime scene, but it is, and they still always manage to get there long before the useless police-force.

 

Sure enough, there aren’t any cars or officers surrounding the sleek metal and glass building yet. They park the car in a side street instead of straight out front and burst into the bank before they could be noticed from outside.

Inside the first thing Minhyun sees is a crowd of people huddled on the floor. They’re all silent as mice and clearly trying not to move too much. Minhyun locks eyes with one of them, a middle-aged woman with brown hair in a tight bun, and sees an emotion he can all too easily define in them. Fear. These are hostages.

“I’ll talk to the hostages. I'll try and keep them calm and get them out of here if possible. You go after the guy,” Jisung says quietly. Minhyun nods, but the older is already moving over to the throng of people so he completely misses it.

Minhyun turns his attention to the guy stuffing a briefcase with wads of cash that are being handed over by a terrified looking employee. The guy doesn’t have any weapons as far as Minhyun can tell, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t hiding any out of his sight, or that he isn’t dangerous even without them.

The guy closes the briefcase and turns to face the door, meaning Minhyun is standing right in his line of sight. So much for the element of surprise. He’s a little shorter than Minhyun, with a skinny frame, bloodshot eyes, and blonde hair that looks like it hasn’t been brushed in decades despite him probably being no more than Minhyun’s own age, if not younger.

The guy's eyes widen in panic. He and Minhyun just look at each other for a split second when suddenly the guy waves his arm. At first, Minhyun is confused, then he feels a fist crash into the side of his face. It takes a second for the shock to wear off, but when it does Minhyun quickly realizes he’s surrounded by four guys. Only, he isn’t surrounded by four different guys, each of them is identical to each other down to the last detail, as well as identical to the man with the briefcase. They're clones.

So, this guy has powers.

It isn’t unusual for them to face people with superpowers, in fact, it's what they do most of the time and why they started doing this in the first place. Still, when they do it's better if they have someone else with them since neither his nor Jisung’s powers are very useful in a fight. Minhyun would just have to hope his years of fighting experience would get him through this relatively unscathed.

He crooks his arm and smashes the same one who’d punched him in the face with his elbow. The guy doesn’t go down, but it seems to affect him more than a single hit should, there’s no blood, but he’s clearly weaker and disoriented now. Minhyun throws a punch this time when it looks like the clone is thinking about attacking again. It hits him straight in the stomach and what once looked like a person disintegrates into nothing.

Of course, powers always have a weakness. It seems as if this guy's is that while he can make copies of himself, the copies are nowhere near as strong as the real deal would be, and perhaps can’t think for themselves considering none of the other five attacked while Minhyun was taking the first one down.

The next one dives for him, capturing him in a headlock. It’s tight, Minhyun can feel the pressure on his windpipe and his oxygen slowly being cut off. The clones may not be durable but clearly they have a decent amount of strength in them. Good thing the hold is a basic one— the escape tactics of a headlock are practically ingrained in him step by step at this point and he goes through them mechanically.

 

  1. Turn your head to the side so that your airway isn’t blocked.
  2. Tuck your chin into the crook of their elbow and sink down.
  3. Hook your foot around the back of their leg.
  4. Turn and throw them to the ground.



 

The copy is now sprawled on the ground, Minhyun aims a swift kick at his calf, and he, too, vanishes.

The next attacker is even easier to handle. Minhyun takes him down with only a few well-aimed punches. The last two prove to be a problem; they both come for him at once, grabbing one of his arms each. He kicks his legs out at their calves, but he’s not in a very advantageous position right now and they land weakly. The clones stay standing.

He’s long turned around by now and is facing the front of the bank. He can see Jisung still talking to the crowd of hostages. None of them are looking in his direction, all staring straight at Jisung instead. He probably told them to do so— anyone who doesn’t have powers isn’t supposed to know about them, or at least that’s the rule they themselves decided on and try to follow. The hostages have to know by now that something strange is going on, but they’d no doubt trick themselves into denying it anyway.

He doesn’t say anything, and Jisung can’t see him, but the other man can always sense when one of them is in danger. It’s almost like a second power. Jisung turns and spots the situation he’s in quickly. Before Minhyun can even blink Jisung is already rushing to his aid.

Jisung punches one of Minhyun’s attackers straight in the nose, forcing him to let go of Minhyun’s arms as he falls back. Jisung gives him a look, silently asking for confirmation that he can handle it from here, and Minhyun nods. Jisung goes rushing back to look over the hostages. Minhyun throws another punch at the same area Jisung hit, turning the clone to nothing. There is only one left now, and Minhyun pushes him to the floor before he can attack and lands his foot on his head...and now there are none.

The original man is still there, holding his briefcase of stolen money and staring dumbstruck at Minhyun who now stands alone. If Minhyun was him he would have run by now, but maybe he couldn’t, maybe he needed to stay close to his clones, to control them or even just keep them there at all, or maybe the guy was just too much of an idiot, too confident in his abilities, to take Minhyun down.

He tries to run now, but Minhyun reaches into his pocket and grabs the device he picked up earlier. He throws it at the guy and it lands on the floor beneath him, then a holographic barrier appears around the thief and he’s trapped.

Not for the first time, Minhyun mentally thanks Guanlin for making these portable cells.

The guy is still pushing at the almost invisible barrier around him as Minhyun approaches, fighting for a way out, but Minhyun knows there isn’t one.

“Don’t bother trying to use your powers. You can’t from in there,” Minhyun says coldly. He’s facing the apprehended criminal, and now that Jisung has sent all the hostages out of the building to safety he’s walking towards them as well.

“Now, we’re not the police, so we’re just gonna leave you here until they come and take you to jail,” Jisung tells the guy.

“Wait! No! I can’t go to prison!” The guy yells, pounding the holographic walls with even more desperation.

“Commit a crime, you go to prison, that’s kind of how it works,” Minhyun replies casually.

“No, look! This isn’t really my fault!” He argues. “This was all my boss’s idea!” He adds, clearly glad he’s found something or someone else to blame it on

“Your boss?” Minhyun asks, curious now.

“He’s...a crime lord, or whatever. He should be the one in trouble! Not me!” He insists.

“What’s your boss's name? Where can we find him?” Jisung asks. He sounds sympathetic now. Minhyun doesn’t know if he really is or if he’s just giving this guy what he wants to get the information.

“I….I don’t know his name.” The guy suddenly seems afraid, as if this wasn’t the same person he’s just been ratting out for his own gain. Maybe he just hadn’t thought it through before.

“Okay, what about an address?” Minhyun asks flatly.

The guy stays silent.

“Fine. If he’s really sending people out to commit crimes like you say I’m sure we’ll find out sooner or later.” Minhyun turns away from the man and towards Jisung at his side. “The cops will be here soon, let’s go.”

“Wait! Aren’t you gonna let me go?” The guy shouts.

Jisung turns to him. “Told to or not, you still committed a crime. You left innocent people scared, and you don’t seem at all genuinely remorseful. I wish you were though.”

And with that, they both leave the criminal to shout insults after them as they walk out the door.

“I do wish he really regretted it,” Jisung sighs

“I know you do, but not everyone will. You knew that when you started this, you knew that before, back when you first became a police officer,” Minhyun replies.

“You didn’t know me back when I first became a police officer,”

“No, but if you got to know everything about me from the second we met, then I deserved to know a few things in return, and you told me that, remember?”

“I do,” Jisung says, smiling at the memory. “And you’re right, thank you.”

They walk towards the car in silence from there, but once they’re outside the door Jisung turns to him and says, “Hey, It’s not that late you know. Maybe we could go get a drink? There’s probably still a few bars open, at least in this city. Or we could find a cheap takeout place,” He suggests.

“I- I think I’d rather just go back to the house,” Minhyun answers awkwardly.

Jisung nods, resigned, and goes to fetch his car keys from his jacket.

Minhyun only looks away for a second, not even distracted, just for something to do as Jisung once again doesn’t find his keys in the pocket he thought they were in and pats himself down to locate them. Suddenly, there’s a yell, and when he looks back there’s a figure knocking Jisung over the head with an object he can’t make out in the dark of this small, unlit street. Then, before he can even move, Jisung is dragged away and stuffed into the backseat of a car parked behind them that they both failed to notice. The car drives off, the attacker in the driver's seat and Jisung in the back, and Minhyun is still standing exactly where he was before any of this started.

 

* * *

 

 Jisung groans. His head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton and shaken up. Everything is a blur except the sharp pain at the back of his skull.

He goes to touch it, and then he realises that he can’t move his arms. His eyes fly open and it takes a moment for his vision to adjust, but eventually he can see more than just blurry shapes and flashes of light. He’s in a room he doesn’t recognise. It’s not decorated at all, the walls aren’t even painted, they’re just the dull white of old drywall. The only things in here are the light bulb dangling from the ceiling with no lampshade, the white wooden door on his right, him, and the wooden chair that his arms and legs are tied to.

Kidnapped. He was kidnapped, he remembers now. Someone hit him over the head with a blunt object and he lost consciousness.  Whoever they were, they must have taken him here. He remembers the bank heist they stopped. Minhyun was with him. He hopes that the other man is okay. He didn’t see any other attackers, so that's good, and if whoever attacked him went after Minhyun afterward he no doubt would have grasped what was going on quickly and either fought them off or ran. He's most probably fine, thank god.

Jisung pulls at his constraints again. It seems to be rope, thick, heavy duty stuff, and it is tied so tightly that he can feel his blood circulation being cut off. He's nowhere near strong enough to break it, no one would be unless they had super-strength, which isn’t a power he’s ever come across. He could possibly figure out a strategy to get out, no knot can be flawless, but while his head has started to clear he's still struggling to think properly.

He’s just given up for the moment when the door opens. He turns to look properly and it’s a woman who walks in. She looks to be about middle-aged, and has light brown hair tied up in a bun. Even through the fog in his mind, it doesn't take long for him to realise he recognises her.

“You were at the bank. You were a hostage,” he says.

The woman smiles, and it makes Jisung almost shudder, It’s not the smile of someone with good intentions.

“Yes, I was,” She says, “Or at least, that’s what we wanted you to think.”

The woman’s image starts to ripple, somewhere between tiny waves and how he’d imagine a technological glitch. He thinks it’s just his eyes playing tricks on him as a result of his head injury, but then her image starts to become clear again. Where a short and stocky woman stood now stands someone tall, slender, and definitely male. Their clothes disappear too, old brown cardigan and slacks traded in for skinny jeans a loose, plain t-shirt. Perhaps the clothes were never real in the first place, he realises, when their bun disappears and instead there’s a crop of short red hair in its place.

They're ( _he's_ ) a shapeshifter.

“You don’t seem surprised,” He says. His voice holds the remnants of an accent, Jisung realises now, but he can’t place its origin. People from all over live in Southway City— it isn’t an easy guessing game. “I guess people with powers aren’t a big reveal to you? You didn’t seem surprised in the bank either, which means,” He steps closer to him, his face is only inches from Jisung's now with the way he's leaning in. In this form, he's incredibly good-looking, but Jisung hardly cares for looks most of the time, never mind when someone has him tied up in a strange room, “Either you’ve seen too much, or you have powers yourself.”

Jisung stays silent.

“Well? Do you have powers?” He asks. He sounds surprisingly upbeat. Whatever little game he's playing, he's clearly enjoying it.

“Oh, is that the first thing you ask people? And here my parents raised me to ask someone's name before anything else, what were they thinking?” Jisung asks in mock outrage.

The man leans back and laughs, it's both amused and disparaging at the same time.

“You’re not getting my name, buddy. Don’t think I don’t know that names have power.”

Well, maybe he knew that, but Jisung didn’t. Does he mean actual powers, like the kind they both have, or does he just subscribe to some old, superstitious legends? Jisung doesn’t know and isn't sure he wants to...

“However, you can call me...Jung Jung,” he says after a long pause.

“What’s that? Like, your supervillain codename?” he asks, genuinely curious.

He knows they should have given themselves codenames, everyone else was wrong when they outvoted him.

“No, just a nickname. Now, enough chit-chat.”

Suddenly, he’s in Jisung's face again. Out of his peripheral vision, he can see "Jung Jung's" finger tracing the outline of his face, just an inch away or so from skin on skin contact. It could be very useful for Jisung if he’d just get closer, but obviously he knows that too as he’s very careful to stay just that little bit away.

“You,” Jung Jung moves his finger to point directly at him instead, “and your little friend, messed up my boss’s operation, and he is not happy.”

His boss? That sounds familiar somehow, but the lingering haze in his mind won't let him remember where-

“It’s a good thing he sent me along to keep an eye on the kid. I knew that stupid human copy machine wouldn’t be able to do the job. He’s lucky I even freed him from that contraption you put him in before I came to get you,” Jung Jung continues.

Right, the kid at the bank, he mentioned he was working for some kind of crime boss. He wouldn’t tell them who or where, but Jisung guesses this is the where, or at least part of it. He’s kind of hoping he won’t find out the who. Jung Jung is strangely terrifying, his upbeat voice and smile contrasting with the words that come out of his mouth and the clearly unpleasant intentions underneath the surface. If Jung Jung's just a minion and has him tied up and more scared than he is willing to admit, then he doesn’t want to meet the person who can order him around.

“I’d love to spend more time with you and all, but….the boss has other ideas,” Jung Jung sighs.

“What ideas?” Jisung asks, trying not to let the fear now curling around his heart curl into his voice too.

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough.” And there’s that untrustworthy smile again. As if on cue, Jung Jung looks towards the door as someone starts to open it from the other side.

At this point Jisung can feel his heart pounding against his rib cage, practically threatening to crack it. He was afraid this whole time, of course, who wouldn’t be if they woke up tied to a chair in a strange place? But now he's really scared. He has no idea who this "boss" guy is or what he might be capable of, and it sounds like he’s going to torture him. Jisung has been hit, punched, and overall been beaten up pretty bad, but he’s never been _tortured_.

Just how much is it going to hurt? Will he even get out alive?

The door opens fully and he attempts to swallow the lump that formed in his throat and school his trembling features into something neutral.

Two men come through the door.

Neither man seems particularly tall— Jisung thinks one of them might even be a bit shorter than him, but something about them both is imposing nonetheless. The shorter of the two has carefully styled brown hair that falls into a fairly handsome face. He’s attractive, sure, but it seems like he knows it. The thing that really draws Jisung’s attention, though, is his eyes. They’re a nice dark-brown, but that’s not what grabs him, it’s that they’re _empty_ , devoid of any feeling or soul. The man scans the room, and Jisung himself, all without giving even a flicker of a reaction.

Jisung isn’t sure why everything about this man chills him to the bone, but it does.

The other man is strong-looking, with short black hair. That’s about all Jisung manages to take in about his appearance before the first man is stood against the wall in front of him, looking down on him from across the room both literally and probably figuratively.

The other man stays where he is in the corner of the room, seemingly only half-interested in what's going on.

“Now, you have one chance to tell the nice man over there all about yourself.” Jung Jung nods towards the man with brown hair on the other side of the room. If Jisung hadn't been able to guess that he was the boss before then he knows now. “and your friend who was at the bank with you.”

So, they want information on Minhyun. Well, they aren’t going to getting it.

Jung Jung pouts at his silence while the other two men stay expressionless.

“Well, you asked for it. Didn’t he boss?” Jung Jung asks, looking towards the boss.

The boss nods, then he speaks for the first time. His voice isn’t particularly deep, or threatening, he just sounds...surprisingly normal. “A-Tom, take care of this.” He says. He sounds like he couldn’t care less about what’s going on.

The man the boss had referred to as A-Tom silently comes over to clutch Jisung's clothed forearm. Or, it _was_ clothed, at least. Jisung sees his sleeve start to burn away. There are flames licking at the palms of this A-tom's hand, red hot, and then his flaming palm is directly on Jisung’s skin.

He screams.

The pain isn’t comparable to anything Jisung has felt before. He burnt himself on stoves and pots in his life. As a kid, he made the mistake of playing around too close to the fireplace and singing himself. The feeling itself isn’t that different to any of those times, but it’s so much more intense— overtaking his mind and senses until all that exists is fire.

He doesn’t know how long it goes on for. He’s lost all sense of time to the pain. The only thing he can force himself to focus on is gritting his teeth and telling himself not to talk for once in his life.

Eventually, his torturer let's go but the pain hardly dims. He’s sure if he looked down at his arm he’d see his skin shining bright red, or maybe even worse. He feels squeamish just thinking about it so he looks back up at his kidnappers instead. He hopes that despite the tears that escaped his eyes he looks defiant.

“Come on, tell us your name, at least,” The boss says. He says it like it's no big deal, like telling them his name was easy and harmless, and it should be. He almost opens his mouth to tell them, hoping it would make them stop, then he remembers Jung Jung's words from earlier. He said that names have power. Jung Jung refused to use his real name in front of Jisung, and if the boss knows the real name of the man he referred to as A-Tom then he's clearly not willing to use it in front of Jisung either. Maybe, for some people, names do have power.

“I’m not telling you anything,” he answers. It comes out biting despite how weak his voice is feeling.

“Fine. I suppose we’ll just have to continue like this then,” the boss mutters.

Jisung braces himself for A-Tom to grab him again and for the pain to consume his body but it never comes. Instead, the door is suddenly thrown open with a crash. Jisung jumps as much as he can in the chair, and his wrists chafe against the ropes painfully, but he can barely feel it with all the pain already coursing through his body.

Standing in the doorway is a young man, or maybe he’s just a boy, Jisung isn’t sure. He looks far smaller and younger than anyone else in this room, but maybe that’s just his body language— instead of exuding the confidence Jisung’s become accustomed to here, his expression is a shocked one, as if he can’t believe what he’s just done.

Not making eye contact, the boy starts to speak to the room. “I-I’m sorry, it’s just...there’s been a problem with the next job and people were requesting you to come tell us what to do!”

“Can’t you figure that out for yourselves?” the boss sighs.

The boy looks up a bit, eyes wide in panic. “Oh, no! You’re the smart one here, we all know that.”

“Fine,” the boss says, clearly unhappy. “Watch over...whoever this guy is while I go fix your mess.”

The boss leaves the room with his two minions following him. They close the door behind them, and then it's just him and the boy. Jisung doesn't acknowledge him. He’s in too much agony to bother with politeness. The boy doesn't acknowledge him in return, instead, he stays by the door, seemingly focused on something.

Jisung presumes they're just going to stay like this in silence, but then the boy speaks “Okay, they're gone.” He breathes a sigh of relief.

That just makes Jisung’s head spin even more.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“They’re gone but it won't be long until they realise there's not really a problem, so I have to work fast.” The boy says, as much to himself as to Jisung.

“Nope, still don’t get it,” Jisung says. The boy doesn't answer, or maybe he doesn't hear him, he’s distracted by pulling a large knife out from where it was apparently tucked up his sleeve.

“Oh my god, you're gonna kill me.” Jisung whimpers. This isn't how he wanted to die; he wanted to be old and surrounded by his loved ones, not alone in a basement getting stabbed by a teenager at the age of twenty-six.

“No, _they_ were going to kill you.” The boy pauses, knife still in hand, looking genuinely confused. “I’m here to save you….didn’t I mention that?”

“No, you didn’t.” Jisung answers, deadpan.

“Oh,” The boy looks down at the floor, as if thinking back to make sure, then he smiles. It shows off a snaggletooth and it’s the only trustworthy smile he’s seen since he got here. “Hi. I’m here to save you!”

“Why are you saving me? If you’re here then you’re obviously with them.” Jisung asks.

“I... just ended up here. I figured pretty quickly they weren’t good people, but I didn’t think they were going to torture and kill people...I-I can’t just let that happen!” The boy says, clearly distressed by everything he’s seen tonight.

“Okay,” Jisung says. He instincts say to trust this boy, and he trusts his instincts.

There’s a crashing noise from somewhere beyond the door.

Another one follows after it. They don't sound close to Jisung, but it's still not the ideal thing to hear.

“That’s probably the boss getting angry. They must be coming back soon.” The boy looks panicked. “We really need to hurry, I’m gonna cut you free from those ropes, okay?” he adds, moving closer.

When the boy says he’s going to work fast, he clearly means it. One minute, he’s looking at the boy a little bit away from the chair, the next all he sees is a blur and he’s falling to the floor, free of his restraints.

He just manages to figure out the boy must have superspeed before his brain is in a totally other time.

Jisung stays where he is, but the image in front of him changes, so real he doesn’t feel at all like he’s still where he was. He’s entirely _here_ now. Everything is blurry and fragmented, whirring past and popping in and out, like a static TV struggling to keep up a picture. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. His visions of the past are always clear. It must be his injuries trying to fight his powers for attention in his mind, not letting his consciousness travel and keeping him grounded to the current world.

He only catches one clear snippet of time.

 

_The only reason he knows that this is the same basement as the one he was just in is that that’s how it works. He can see the history of any person or place he touches with his bare hands, and nowhere else. His hands touched the floor of the basement, so this is still the basement._

_It looks entirely different, though, no longer desolate white walls with no furniture. Instead, the walls are a light cream and there are beautiful paintings hanging on them. There’s a red rug spread over the floor, the same shade as the sofa and chairs._

_He sees two boys in front of him, but they can’t see him. After all, although it may feel like it to him, he isn’t really here._

_The boys seem young, perhaps ten years old, give or take. They both have pitch black hair. One is wearing a pristine white t-shirt, the other has a grubby black one hanging off his skinny frame. He doesn’t know their names. He only learns someone's name if he touches them, then he knows their name and life story right down to how they felt at every small heartbreak or celebration, but this time he touched the building so he knows what happened in these four walls and nothing more and he’s already missed most of it. He’ll only learn their names and things about them as people if he sees it himself._

_They’re sat on the rug, toys scattered around them. They’re each holding an action figure, staging a fight between them._

_“And then Surge knocks Mr. Terrific's head clean off,”  says one of the boys, moving his toy’s plastic arm._

_“Nuh-Uh!” The kid in the white shirt objects to his..brother? Friend? “Surge can’t win, he’s a villain, the good guys always win!”_

_“Well, I want Surge to win! And your heads already knocked off so I don’t know what you’re gonna do about it!”_

_The boy in the white shirt puts his action figure down and crosses his arms. “Fine! You’re always like this! This is why I’d rather play with my other friends, they're way better.”_

_“Are not," the other boy says, surprisingly calm._

_“Are too! But you wouldn't know that because they're not your friends. You don't have any friends but me!” The boy in the white shirt jumps to his feet and begins storming out the room._

_The boy in the black shirt follows him and grabs his arm firmly. He’s just about to say something but Jisung feels a dull pain in his shoulder and the beautiful basement disappears right in front of his eyes, trading itself for the uninviting one of the present._

 

 “Oh, good, you’re okay,” the boy who cut him away from his ropes is hovering above where Jisung lies on the ground.

“Yeah, I’m okay...why does my shoulder hurt?” Jisung asks, groggy from returning his from vision so suddenly on top of the toll already taken on his mind that day.

“I punched you in the shoulder."

“Why?!” Jisung asks, voice filled with disbelief.

“Because you were on the floor and unresponsive. In movies when that happens they normally slap someone, but I thought that might mess with your head injury or something.”

Jisung doesn’t think that's how head injuries work but he doesn't say anything. He is still lying on the floor of a basement and the faint crashes outside are still there, possibly growing closer— he can google head injuries later.

He carefully pushes himself up to his feet; the few seconds that he's forced to lean on his arms sent another surge of pain through him but at least his legs seem mostly unharmed and soon enough he’s standing.

“Uh...Do you need any help?”

Jisung shakes his head, he can do this…he thinks.

Jisung staggers out the door. The kid is following closely behind him, probably expecting him to fall and waiting to catch him.

The door leads out to a hallway, and for the first time, Jisung can reconcile this house with the one in his vision. The hallways are a deep shade of red with dark wood boarding. Exquisite paintings hang every few steps. Jisung doesn't look up, knows they don't have the time, but he imagines if he did he’d see an ornate glass chandelier or something else equally as indulgent.

“You know where the way out is?” Jisung asks though he's sure the boy must or his plan would have all been for nothing.

“Yeah, follow me,” he says, moving ahead of Jisung.

The boy isn't exactly walking slowly, but it's probably not easy for him when he can run faster than Jisung can see— in fact, this probably _is_ what he considers slow.

Thankfully there's only one set of stairs and they're not very long, but once they're up on the landing the hallways they go through seem endless, each one barely indistinguishable from the last. Just how big is this house?

Jisung was about to ask how close they are when he hears another crash, this time much louder, and then a grunt of pain.

Both him and the kid freeze.

Someone rounds the corner.

Jisung lets out a sigh of relief and goes to hug them.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, the words a little muffled from where he's leaning into Minhyun’s shoulder.

“I came to save you, obviously,” Minhyun says.

“Oh, right, kind of already taken care of.” He lets go of Minhyun and gestures towards the boy. “Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”

“And who’s this, exactly?” Minhyun asks, looking towards the kid with a dubious expression.

“I’ll explain in the car. We should probably be getting out of here."

Minhyun doesn't seem happy at the fact he doesn't have all the information yet, but he agrees regardless and loops his arm around Jisung to help him stand. Jisung would brush him off and say he doesn't need it but, in all honesty, it's appreciated.

“Well, goodbye then.” the boy says, looking down at the floor. “I hope you both get home okay. I’m sorry about all this.”

Jisung turns to look at him properly and feels his heart break a little bit. This kid just saved his life, and now he expects so little in return that he thinks Jisung would just leave him here with a group of despicable people who will soon figure out what he did and no doubt hurt him? Is that how little he expects from others in life?

“Hey, kid. What’s your name?” Jisung finally asks. It was bugging him all night to just refer to him as the kid or the boy in his mind, but there was never a good time to ask, until now.

The boy hesitates for a moment, clearly unsure if he should tell, but after a moment he looks up and answers.

“Woojin,” he says. “My name is Park Woojin.”

“Come with us, Park Woojin,” Jisung replies, soft but insistent. “You’ll be safe, I promise.”

For the first time that night Woojin doesn't seem to hesitate; he dips in front of them to lead them down a few more hallways. As soon as they round the corner they see a man unconscious on the ground, and there’s more as they go, sometimes accompanied by broken ornaments or even cracks and holes in the walls, right up to the two unconscious men in suits by the front door. Jisung realises that all the crashes they’d heard before were Minhyun fighting his way through the house.

The cold and fresh air of the night outside makes Jisung feel dizzy, but they make it to the car unharmed. Minhyun gets in the driver's seat after helping Jisung into the passenger one and Woojin climbs into the back.

Jisung realises just how afraid he was now that he doesn't have to be anymore. He feels himself finally relax— he's safe now. He's not dead. He's not even as badly hurt as he could have been. His entire body is clammy with sweat, making his neck and arms sticky against the black leather seats, but he lets himself melt into them anyway.

“Don't fall asleep,” Minhyun says frankly. “Not until we get you home and make sure you don't have a concussion.”

Minhyun starts the car and they spend the drive in silence. Jisung doesn’t mind— all of them are tired and none of them really know what to say. It's been a long night after all.

They pull into the driveway and all of them exit the car. Jisung pulls out his house keys and wow, did no one check his pockets when they kidnapped him? Or maybe house keys meant nothing to them when they didn't know where he lives and didn't expect him to make it out to go back home. Even if they did take them it would have been meaningless, he thinks as he lets the alarm system scan him then enters the code only known to them.

The house is just as they left it. Apparently, no one woke up in the middle of the night and noticed their absence.

“I’ll get Daniel,” Minhyun says, already heading towards the stairs.

“Wait! Can you show Woojin to a room first? He should get some sleep.” They all should, but he knows he won’t be able to convince Minhyun to go to bed and leave waking Daniel until the morning.

Minhyun gives a sharp, jolted nod and gestures for the boy to follow him. Woojin doesn't say anything; he seems too busy taking in his surroundings, but he follows.

Jisung takes a seat at the dining table and waits. It only takes a few moments for Minhyun to come back, Woojin is gone but in his place is Daniel, still bleary-eyed as he runs his hand through his hair to smooth out his bed-head.

“What’s going on?” Daniel asks, voice breaking a little thanks to disuse during sleep.

“Jisung is hurt,” Minhyun explains, getting straight to the point.

Suddenly Daniel is a lot more awake, rushing over to Jisung to look him over.

“Where? What happened?” He asks.

“Head, arm, my wrists and ankles are sore too,” Jisung says. “The rest I’ll explain in the morning, when everyone's awake, if that's okay?”

Daniel nods. Jisung knows Daniel’s probably going to worry until morning now. He and Daniel are each other's oldest friends, all the way back from when they were children. That means Daniel would worry, but it also means he trusts Jisung and will let him take the time he needs.

Daniel looks at his arm first and gasps when he does so. Jisung steels himself and finally decides to look at it. It’s honestly not as bad as he thought it would be— a palm sized patch of his forearm is red and shiny, stretching out into five lines that he knows were fingers. It’s starting to blister, and by the morning it will probably be completely covered and not pretty at all, but he doesn't have to worry about that.

Daniel places his hand on the wound. For a moment it is incredibly painful, but then the pain starts to leach away and Daniel looks up at him with a smile. Having someone with healing powers as a friend is nothing short of a blessing sometimes.

When Daniel finally removes his hand there is no sign of the burn left to see or feel. Then he does the same for each ankle, each wrist, and finally the back of his skull.

“There, all better!” Daniel smiles. He’s always smiling, no matter what he feels underneath. “Just...Please tell me what happened soon, okay?”

Jisung promises and tells Daniel to go back to bed. He does, giving Jisung’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he passes. It’s just Jisung and Minhyun left downstairs now.

“Who is that kid? The one you brought back?” Minhyun asks, his no-nonsense attitude to the situation almost seems cold after Daniel’s patience.

“I told you. He saved me.”

“Okay, but why was he there, in that house, in the first place?” It seems like Minhyun already knows the answer.

“He was working with them, but-” Jisung starts, but Minhyun cuts him off.

“But what? He was working for the people who kidnapped and hurt you! And you decide to not only trust him but bring him back here?!”

“Guanlin-” Jisung starts again.

“Guanlin never kidnapped or tortured anyone!” Minhyun argues.

“Neither did Woojin! Now stop cutting me off, this isn't gonna get us anywhere.”

Minhyun relinquishes to his request with a sigh. “How do you know Woojin hasn't? Did you…” Minhyun trails off, knowing Jisung can fill in the blanks for himself.

“No, I didn't,” Jisung admits. “The only time he touched me was either through my shirt or when he was cutting me out of those ropes, he must have then, but I could barely see him or feel him— it must have been too quick for my powers to react.”

Jisung can see the question in Minhyun’s eyes.

“Superspeed. He has superspeed.”

“So you’re adopting another super-powered kid with nowhere better to go?” Minhyun asks knowingly.

“You know me,” Jisung says, shrugging lightheartedly.

“Yeah, I do,” Minhyun sighs, but there's a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I’m not gonna tell you what to do. This is your house and whether you deny it or not, most of us consider you to be in charge here. I just...hope you know what you’re doing, Jisung, I wouldn't want anyone to get-” He seems to be struggling with the last word, and eventually he just lets the sentence trail off.

“I know, Minhyun. I’m pretty sure I know what I'm doing, but I'm always glad to have you guys to look out for me.”

Minhyun sets out to make them a pot of sleepy-time tea and they drink in fairly comfortable silence until they agree they should both finally retire for the night.

They say goodnight on the second floor where Minhyun’s room is and Jisung walks alone up to the third.

He has a room of his own, as does everyone in the house. His is a large room with cream and light green painted walls, filled with clothes and trinkets either collected in his time living here or taken from his childhood home when he moved out at the age of eighteen. His bed is a double, though he didn't share it with anyone unless one of the kids was feeling lonely and didn't want to sleep alone that night, on those nights they’d sneak in with anyone or sometimes all pile together in the living room. Tonight there was no one but him there, so he spreads out under the soft covers and closes his eyes.

He hopes he’s exhausted enough to get a good sleep. Thankfully he has a day off work tomorrow, so he doesn't have to worry about that, but explaining the events of that night and Woojin’s sudden presence in their house would no doubt make it a busy day.


	2. Chapter 2

Woojin opens his eyes to an unfamiliar white ceiling. The bed he’s in has soft white sheets, as unfamiliar to him as the ceiling above him, he was used to a mattress on the floor with whatever coverings he could find, and sometimes, just sometimes, a warm body sleeping next to his.

It takes him a moment to realise where he is, to remember what had happened last night that lead to him not being in the boss's mansion anymore. Despite only being there for six months or so, it feels strange being somewhere else, maybe because in that time he’d only been allowed to leave once or twice.

He sits up and swings his legs off the bed, bare feet hitting the hardwood floor. The room is practically empty, with plain walls and only basic furniture, no personal touches. It clearly isn’t in use by anyone else. Woojin is glad, he doesn’t want to impose on anyone’s space.

He doesn’t have a way to check the time, but he’d like to think he has a decent sleeping pattern so it’s probably nothing ridiculous. He doesn’t know whether he should leave this room or not, or where to go if he does.

This house is just as big as the boss's mansion was, maybe even bigger considering he hasn’t seen all of it. It doesn’t bear any similarity to the mansion though, the mansion was luxurious but dark and closed off. This house— who did it belong to? Probably one of the two men from last night, but they’d mentioned others living here, so he couldn’t be sure— was light and spacious, not made to show off wealth but made for people to live in.

There’s a knock on the bedroom door, an unusual sound when he’s been used to people walking in on him not only recently but his whole life. He tells whoever it is to come in and Jisung peeks around the door with a smile before walking in fully.

“Did you sleep okay?” He asks. He’s standing a few feet away from where Woojin is sat on the bed, close but not too close.

“Yeah,” Woojin answers truthfully. It was the best sleep he’d had in quite a while.

“Great!” Jisung’s smile grows wider, crinkling his eyes. Woojin tries to return it but he can’t help but feel it just looks awkward.

“There’s food downstairs if you want it! Or you can go for a shower first if you prefer, but everyone is waiting downstairs if you’re okay with meeting them? You don’t have to be nervous. We’re all nice.” Woojin’s stomach has been rumbling since the moment he woke up, but a shower sounds all too tempting as well. In the end, it’s Jisung’s enthusiasm about him meeting the others that makes him choose to go downstairs, despite his own nerves. Woojin doesn’t want to disappoint him.

The walk to the kitchen feels drawn-out and slow. He’s unsure if that’s because of genuine length, his anxiety, or the fact that that’s how walking, that is, what everyone else considers walking, is always annoying to him since he's deliberately forcing his body to slow down from what feels like it’s natural pace.

The bottom floor of the house is entirely open-plan, with only half-walls separating the living room from the dining room from the kitchen, meaning as soon as Woojin walks in he can see everyone.

He isn’t sure how many people he expected to live there, but there’s definitely more than he'd been thinking. Minhyun’s there, and Jisung obviously, but he hasn’t seen any of these other people before. Altogether there are maybe ten of them, all guys. None of them have noticed his presence yet, they're all around the dining table eating or talking or, in a couple of cases that make Woojin cringe, doing both at the exact same time.

Jisung clears his throat and the guys look up, some immediately and some a little slowly, clearly still bleary-eyed and sleepy. They wear expressions of interest and surprise, for the most part. Woojin doesn’t know how to respond to that. Thankfully he doesn’t have to as Jisung begins to speak.

“Guys, this is Park Woojin. He’s going to be living here from now on,” Jisung says. None of the boys seem particularly surprised by this.

Jisung explains what happened last night. He doesn’t delve too deep into the more unpleasant details, but he doesn’t skim over them either. With every word he says Woojin can feel the emotion in his voice, the sincerity of what he’d been through and what he has to say. He finishes up his story with “Woojin had nothing to do with what happened to me. I want you to welcome him as much as you welcomed each other.”

Woojin isn’t stupid; he isn’t expecting people to trust him after they heard where he came from. He really had nothing to do with those peoples’ crimes, not even the smaller, non-violent ones. In his time at the mansion he’d mostly sat around the house. Sure, he quickly realised they were criminals, he would have realised it even his boyfriend— now ex-boyfriend, he presumes, _hopes_ , even if it hurts a little— hadn’t basically told him one night, in a drunken slur, that he was involved in a crime ring and they’d be moving into their headquarters.

What Woojin certainly wasn’t expecting was a boy skipping up to him with a wide smile and embracing him in a hug. Woojin’s brain seems to have malfunctioned from surprise because he stands stock-still and his mind goes blank until the boy let's go again

“Hello, I’m Lee Daehwi!”, the boy says. He’s bright and energetic, reminiscent of something colourful and sugary...maybe  _too_  colourful and sugary. Was Daehwi really that excited to meet him? Was he faking it? Was he always like this? “I generate forcefields! What do you do?”

Woojin’s eyes grow wide and he takes a step back from Daehwi. People never came out with their powers like that, not unless it was The boss’s mob who wanted normal people to know about their abilities in order to strike fear into their hearts.

“Don’t worry Woojin. Everyone here has a power and we talk about them freely. There are some house rules regarding powers, actually, but we can go over those later,” Jisung interjects.

Woojin nods, reassured. He’d overheard Jisung being interrogated about possibly having powers, before now he hadn’t seen any confirmation that it was in fact true, but it makes sense that he does, and if he does it only makes sense that his friends do too.

“Superspeed,” Woojin tells him.

Suddenly Daehwi is grabbing his shoulders and jumping up and down. Woojin tries to follow him with his eyes and finds himself feeling dizzy.

“Oh my god! That’s so cool!” Daehwi enthuses once he’s firmly on the ground again. “Can you run over there?” He points to the breakfast bar. “How about over there?” He points to the TV. “Oh! How fast can you run upstairs and back? But you have to bring back my bag to prove you did it. it’s a leather satchel, brown.”

“Daehwi, Woojin isn’t your servant, go get your own bag,” says someone in the house, Woojin doesn’t know who.

Daehwi pouts but runs off up the stairs, waving to Woojin as he goes.

Introductions continue after that. There’s Guanlin-technology manipulation, Seongwoo-emotion manipulation, Jinyoung, who mutters his power so quietly that Woojin doesn’t really catch it. There’s also a boy called Jihoon. He tells Woojin his name with an expression that throws him off. He’s looking straight at him from the breakfast bar, not distracted by food or his phone like most of the others. His face is utterly impassive, so perfectly expressionless it seems practiced. When Jihoon just keeps staring he gets poked in the side by the guy beside him, taking his attention off Woojin.

“You’re supposed to tell him what your power is, come on, fit in with the crowd,” the guy says, clearly teasing.

“He’ll find out,” Jihoon says, not looking at the other man but rather still staring at Woojin, then, he walks away.

After a beat of silence, more introductions come, but Woojin doesn’t absorb any of them, too busy thinking about that encounter and the strange boy who just walked away. He isn’t sure how much he’s missed by the time Jisung claps his hands together and grabs his attention again.

“You already know me, but in case you forgot, I’m Jisung!” He waves then gestures to the other man from last night. “This is Minhyun, you met him too. My power is retrocognition. Minhyun’s is precognition.”

“Precognition, that’s seeing the future,” Woojin says, half to himself and half to them.

“Yeah, I get visions of the future. Random and cryptic, but visions.” Minhyun explains.

“So..retrocognition would be seeing the past?” Woojin guesses. He doesn’t really know a lot about powers; he’d never been overly interested in finding out more about them. When he’d discovered his own powers there had thankfully been someone there who could explain it to him and that was all he’d really needed to know.

 

_Woojin was playing soccer. The weather wasn’t great, a cold wind nipped at his exposed skin and the rain last night had left the back garden slick with mud, but Donghyun had gotten him a new soccer ball as well as some portable goalposts for his twelfth birthday last week so Woojin had wanted them to play together._

_He knew Donghyun must have spent a lot of time saving up for it. The spending money their foster parents gave them wasn’t really much, and they needed to use it on things like buying lunch at school each day and paying for the bus. When Donghyun had given it to him he’d said it wasn’t much and he wishes he could have gotten him more, but Woojin had needed something like this, he was falling behind other members of the soccer team because as good as he was he just didn’t have the same money and support behind him to practice the way they did. Besides, even if it had been the worst present imaginable Woojin would still have been grateful— no one from any of his previous foster families had ever gotten him presents before._

_Woojin was guarding the goal, his usual position, while Donghyun took shots at it. Donghyun wasn’t the best at soccer and they both knew it, but Woojin had decided not to go easy on him._

_“Oh, come on, at least let me get one goal,” Donghyun whined after Woojin had caught the ball for the third time in a row._

_“I’m not going to just let you win, but come on, you can do this!” Woojin yelled back._

_Donghyun shook his head fondly. He took the ball Woojin had kicked back to him and placed it in front of his feet, ready to shoot again. Woojin was actually planning to let Donghyun score this time, but Donghyun’s shot didn’t make it into the goal. Instead, the ball hurtled past the side of the goal and out of the garden. They watched it until it stopped on the other side of the street._

_“Don’t worry, I’ll get it,”  Woojin said._

_When he had the ball hooked under his arm and had checked there weren’t any cars coming he decided to run back. One minute he was launching into a sprint, the next he couldn’t see anything. The world was a blur of colours and he felt like he’d lost all control of his legs but they kept going anyway. He had no idea what was happening. Everything was too fast. The muscles in his legs were burning and there was bile rising in his stomach and-_

_He was looking up at the sky. He could feel the wet ground beneath him and he wondered how he got on the ground but he couldn’t bring himself to get up and find out. He was so sluggish and confused it took him a second to realise that Donghyun was kneeling next to him, his face hovering above Woojin’s own._

_“Woojin!” He cried out frantically. He grabbed Woojin’s face, turning it in his hands, probably checking for injuries. Woojin groaned weakly at the movement._

_“We need to get you inside, do you think you can stand?” Donghyun asked._

_Woojin pushed himself up on his forearms but couldn’t bring himself to go any further. Instead, Donghyun gripped him by the elbow and pulled him up then looped Woojin’s arm around his shoulder to help him walk. Woojin didn’t pay attention to where they were going, he just kept his head down and tried to stay steady. Donghyun dropped him on his bed in the room they shared. Woojin closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths._

_“I’ll be back in a moment, okay?” He heard Donghyun say._

_Woojin just nodded in response._

_Woojin stayed focused on his breathing. The pain in his body was lessening a bit, and he started to think about what had happened earlier...what_ _did_ _happen earlier? Woojin had been on one side of the road, then everything had turned weird, then he had been back in the garden, lying on the ground. It didn’t make sense._

_Woojin opened his eyes when he felt something cold on his forehead. He hadn’t heard Donghyun come back but he was here, sat next to Woojin on the bed. Donghyun removed what Woojin now saw was a wet cloth from his forehead._

_“Okay, your head’s not bleeding too badly,” Donghyun said, inspecting the cloth and then Woojin’s forehead. “I’m still gonna put a band-aid on it.”_

_“I’m bleeding?” Woojin asked. “Why?”_

_Donghyun’s hand paused for a moment as he reached towards the first aid kit he’d apparently brought upstairs. “You ran into the fence.”_

_Woojin supposed that made sense, but he never realised he had run into anything, he hadn’t even been sure he had been running at all._

_“Donghyun?” Woojin said hesitantly. “Wh-what happened out there? What did you see?”_

_Donghyun sighed and picked up the band-aid, reaching over to place it on Woojin’s forehead. “You were running across the street. You were running..really fast...a lot faster than a normal person should be able to.”_

_“A-are you saying I’m not normal?” Woojin asked. He could feel his bottom lip quivering. What did that mean? He wasn’t normal? He couldn’t not be normal._

_“Well, no, but-” Donghyun cut himself off when Woojin started sobbing. There were tears streaming down his cheeks and he was sniveling, he didn’t mean to cry, but he couldn’t hold it in._

_“B-But I wanna be normal! I can’t not be normal! I-If I’m not normal they’ll send me away again!” Woojin sobbed, not even breathing between words. “I don’t wanna be sent away again! I like it here, with you. It’s the best home I’ve ever had.”_

_“Hey, hey,” Donghyun said, gently wiping Woojin’s tears away. “I’m not gonna let that happen, I promise.”_

_“Really? You don’t hate me now?” Woojin asked. His sobs had calmed down a little now, just a tiny bit._

_“Of course I don’t. How could I hate my brother?” Donghyun said earnestly._

_Woojin had never been called someone’s brother before. He’d never been called family by anyone, no matter how many foster families he’d been through. He’d only been in this home for a few months. Donghyun was their only other foster kid and he’d barely been there longer than Woojin. He stopped crying immediately, too shocked at the idea that someone actually thought of him as their family, that Donghyun actually wanted him to be part of his family._

_“Hey, can I show you something?” Donghyun asked._

_“Of course.” Woojin nodded._

_They were both sat cross-legged on the bed, facing each other. Donghyun didn’t get up. In fact, he barely moved. He just held his palm out so it was facing the ceiling. Donghyun took a deep breath and Woojin just watched, confused. As soon as he was about to ask what’s going on, he saw it._

_In the centre of Donghyun’s palm was a little golden orb, no bigger than a golf ball. Donghyun wasn’t holding it, rather it was hovering just above his hand. It didn’t seem solid, whatever it was, it subtly shifted and flickered. It took Woojin a moment to realise what it was. Light._

_Donghyun had a ball of pure light in the palm of his hand._

_“Wh...How?” Is all Woojin could say._

_Donghyun smiled. “You’re not the only person like this, Woojin. You’re not the only one who’s...not normal.”_

_“You mean...you too?”_

_“Yeah. me too.” Donghyun nodded. “I found out I could do this a couple of years ago. It scared me too. I didn’t know what it was, I didn’t know how to control it. But I’ve been practicing. I know what I’m doing now. If you want, I can try and help you learn how to control what you can do too?”_

_Woojin was so amazed and grateful that he thought he could cry again, but he didn’t, he just nodded at Donghyun with a smile, and Donghyun smiled back._

_He thought he finally knew what it was like to have someone care about you._

 

 “That’s right,” Jisung says. He sounds proud that Woojin got it right on the first try.

“How does that work?” Woojin asks, still not sure he understands.

“When I touch something, or someone, for the first time, I can see their entire history. If it’s a building I can see everything that happened there from the day the first brick was placed in the wall. If it’s a person I can see their lives from the day they were born, who they know, how they felt, every single day. I can see everything,” Jisung explains.

Woojin is surprised. He wasn't expecting retrocognition to be so powerful. it sounded a lot more useful than Woojin had ever considered at first.

“Wait...does that mean...you know my whole life?” Woojin asks, the idea suddenly occurring to him. He doesn't know how comfortable he is with that, the idea of someone he’d just met knowing everything about him doesn't sit comfortably, even if Jisung has already seen him at his lowest.

“No,” Jisung says, his tone of voice is sympathetic, like he already knows what Woojin is thinking. “I don’t think we touched. it needs to be skin on skin contact, that never happened except when you cut those ropes off me and you were too quick for me to even realise.”

Woojin breathes a sigh of relief.

“However,” Jisung continues. “This still means that the next time we touch it’s going to happen. If you’re uncomfortable with that just let me know, and we can both do everything in our power to stop that happening, whatever makes you comfortable, Woojin.”

“I don't think I’m comfortable with someone knowing my whole life yet, no offence,” Woojin answers.

“None taken,” Jisung says. “Now! You wanted breakfast! Feel free to look around the kitchen. You can have anything you want.”

Woojin remembers how hungry he is then. He hasn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. This is the most well-stocked kitchen he’s ever seen. In Jisung’s fridge there’s fresh fruit and vegetables, pots of yoghurt, lunchmeat, eggs and butter and cheese, and more. The cupboards contain multiple types of bread, pasta, tins of all kinds of things that Woojin doesn’t bother reading, and a lot of junk food.

He doesn’t know where to start.

“Need any help?” someone asks, suddenly standing next to him. Woojin feels bad he can’t remember their name.

“Uh, no thank you, I’m okay,” Woojin answers.

“Are you sure? No one here is really much of a chef but I make a freaking good omelette,” the guy says.

“It’s not a bad omelette, he’s right,” someone else offers, spinning around in their stool to face them. Woojin can’t remember his name either.

“It’s really great omelette,” the first guy repeats forcefully.

“It’s okay omelette,” the other guy says.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Jaehwan? Like maybe your own house?” the first guy says bitingly.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Sungwoon? Like maybe college?”

Sungwoon checks his watch and loudly yells “Oh fuck!” before downing the cup of coffee he’d left on the bar.

“Bye, guys! Have a nice day!” Sungwoon shouts to the house at large.

“You too!” Jaehwan yells back, in a much friendlier tone than before. Sungwoon waves to him, just as friendly.

“You don’t live here?” Woojin asks Jaehwan, unable to hold back his curiosity.

“Huh? Oh, no. Not all of us live here. Me, Seongwoo, and Jinyoung just hang out here. I’d prefer to not be out of my apartment this early, but Jisung called us over for a team meeting,” Jaehwan explains.

“Team meeting?”

“A meeting for the team,” Jaehwan deadpans.

“There’s a team?” Woojin changes his question.

“Wow, did Jisung and Minhyun actually explain anything to you?” Jaehwan asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Well, I don’t think they really had the time, to be fair.” What Woojin wants to say is that Jisung had just been tortured and Minhyun was preoccupied with helping his friend, but if they didn’t want to go too into detail about all that then neither would he.

“So you just followed two random guys home with no idea who they were or what they do?” Jaehwan looks skeptical.

“Seemed better than staying where I was.” Woojin shrugs, bluntly honest.

Jaehwan laughs, Woojin raises an eyebrow at the sound because..honestly..what the hell kind of laugh is that.

“Yeah, that’s how most people end up here,” Jaehwan says dryly once he’s stopped laughing.

“So, what kind of team is this?” Woojin asks.

“A superhero team,” Jaehwan answers, matter of fact.

Oh god, what has Woojin gotten himself into now?

 

* * *

 

Sungwoon gets off his subway stop just in time to make the ten minute walk to campus and still not be late for his first lecture. Someone probably would have driven him if he'd asked, but he's already living in Jisung’s house rent-free, he doesn’t want to freeload more than he already is. Not that Jisung would mind— it had been weeks of arguing before he’d agreed to even let Sungwoon pay for his own food.

Marble Bridge University is unquestionably a beautiful place, as expected from one of the best and most expensive colleges in the whole country. It’s one of the few remaining buildings in Southway City that hadn’t been torn down and rebuilt as something sleek and modern. Instead, it was a set of old stone buildings, with arches and towers. There isn’t actually a marble bridge, that name was just based on an old legend that Sungwoon had read back in fourth grade. It was about a witch who lived in a little house made of gold that you could only reach by crossing a marble bridge, they said if you did it and won her favour she’d grant you magic powers. They sure thought of weird ways to explain powers in the old days, he guessed, but hey, they don’t have any better explanation now. Powers are just something that kind of happens to people, seemingly without cause or pattern.

His first lecture is advanced psychology, and he manages to slide into his usual seat and get his supplies out just before the professor slips through the door to teach.

His professor starts talking, they just finished their last topic, so he quickly announces that the next few lessons would be about “long term effects of loneliness in adolescents.” or something along those lines. Sungwoon listens carefully, taking notes even though he doesn’t need to. Having the power of a memory so enhanced he never forgets the tiniest details of anything, from the smell of his exes’ perfume to what Daniel ate for lunch three weeks ago on Thursday, is definitely handy when it comes to academics.

The lesson passes quickly, as they all do, and soon enough it’s Sungwoon’s first break of the day. He makes the familiar journey across campus that he started making last year. One of the most appealing things about marble bridge for many of its students is how it offers just as much in the arts departments as it does for the more traditionally academic paths. The building that houses the dance rooms is as old all the others, but the inside definitely isn’t. The practice rooms are all freshly painted with hardwood floors and floor to ceiling mirrors as well as state of the art sound systems.

He peers through the little windows in the doors looking for the right room. Most of them are either empty or have whole groups of students in them but towards the end of the hall is a room with just one person in it. That’s the room he’s been looking for, is always looking for.

The music blasts in his ears as soon as he opens the door, an unfamiliar song with a strong beat. He quickly steps inside and closes the door so as not to disturb anyone who might be loitering around the building. The boy inside doesn’t notice his presence, logically he should, since Sungwoon is reflected in the mirrors, but that’s what he's always like when he is practising, too absorbed in it to notice anything else.

Sungwoon watches the boy dance, as impressed as always. He never considered himself a bad dancer, for a physics major, but his dancing is nothing like this. Right now the boy's movements are sharp and eye-catching, one movement echoing back into the rest of his body, but he could also be slow and precise or smooth and seductive, it is the culmination of natural talent and years of practice, and watching him is entrancing.

The music plays out and in the newly found silence the boy moves over to the corner of the room and grabs a towel to wipe the sweat from his face. Then he finally looks at Sungwoon, exhausted expression turning into a smile.

“Hey,” Taehyun says.

“Hey yourself,” Sungwoon replies.

“You been there long?” Taehyun asks. “What did you think?”

“I thought it looked really good.”

“Oh yeah? Do you mean the choreo looked good or that I looked good?” Taehyun waggles his eyebrows.

“Shut up,” Sungwoon says immediately.

“You know, we’ve been dating for like two weeks, I think you can finally admit you find me attractive,” Taehyun laughs.

“Two weeks isn’t that long,” Sungwoon points out.

“Okay, well we’ve known each other for like a year, that _is_ a long time.”

“Eleven months,” Sungwoon corrects him. Eleven months, five days, two hours, thirty six minutes, twelve seconds, that’s how long it’s been since the moment they met, but Sungwoon can’t say that.

Taehyun doesn’t have powers, at least, not as far as Sungwoon knows, and that means he can’t know about Sungwoon’s. Sure, there’s technically no rule against telling him, he could come out and say it right now if he wanted. The problem is what comes after that— the problem _being_ that he doesn’t know what comes after that. He never told anyone who doesn’t also have powers that he does. When his powers kicked in in his second to last year of school his parents just attributed his rise in grades to him studying a bit harder, and if they noticed anything else unusual they didn’t mention it. It hasn’t been hard to hide it, he just has to make sure he doesn’t mention remembering anything a normal person wouldn’t. If Taehyun found out who knows how he’d react. It could be anything from disbelief to gradual acceptance to dumping him now that they’d finally gotten into a relationship and then telling everyone so they all thought Sungwoon was crazy, or worse, believed it was true and did something awful to him out of fear and lack of acceptance.

He doesn’t want to do anything to endanger his relationship with Taehyun, or endanger his friends.

“Okay, eleven months,” Taehyun acquiesces “So...will you admit I’m hot now?”

“You’re not too bad,” Sungwoon teases.

“Yeah?” Taehyun moves closer, until his face is right in front Sungwoon’s. “Well, you’re not too bad yourself.” Then, he kisses him.

Kissing Taehyun is still new and exciting to him. Taehyun is a good kisser, no matter how they kiss— he could do soft and sweet, he could do messy and rough, but however it is it takes Sungwoon’s breath away. This kiss is a mix of the two, he starts off planting his lips fiercely against Sungwoon’s, nibbling at Sungwoon’s lower lip, pushing him back against the wall a little, but when Sungwoon winds his arms around Taehyun’s neck he eases up, instead softly pecking at his lips until they’re both giggling.

“Get off me, I need to get to my next class,” Sungwoon says after a while.

“Okay. I'll walk you?”

“Sure.” Sungwoon smiles.

Sungwoon grabs his backpack from where he dropped it on the floor and Taehyun quickly changes into a cleaner shirt and they head outside together. It’s overcast outside; it could start raining soon but Sungwoon thinks they’ll at least be safe for a while rather than having to run or huddle an archway somewhere.

While they walk Taehyun tells him about the new choreography he’s working on, about funny things that happened in his classes, about whatever dumb thing his roommate did now. Sungwoon talks about what he was thinking of writing for his upcoming paper, about his visit to his parent's place last weekend, about what he thinks they could do together next week. Before they know it they’re already outside Sungwoon’s next lecture hall.

“I can walk you home later too, if you want?” Taehyun offers.

“You know I take the subway,” Sungwoon points out.

“Well then, I’ll take the subway with you,” Taehyun responds without missing a beat.

“But why? You live in the dorms. You’d just be dropping me off then you’d have to come back again.”

“Not immediately. We could always hang out at your place for a bit.” Taehyun shrugs, like it’s an idea he just thought on a whim instead of something he’d been suggesting since before they were even dating.

“You know I don’t think that’s a good idea. I have housemates,” Sungwoon sighs for what feels like the hundredth time, but is actually exactly the thirty second time.

“So? We’re not gonna be doing anything we shouldn’t be doing with your housemates around,” Taehyun says.

But that’s not the problem. He completely believes Taehyun when he says the reason he wants to go to Sungwoon’s house isn’t anything inappropriate— if that’s all he wanted he’d just kick his own roommate out for the night like usual. Sungwoon lives in a house with multiple other superpowered people, and while they know not to show it off while someone else is in the house some of their powers are unpredictable, mainly the younger ones since they are still learning to completely control them, or Minhyun’s, but if Minhyun would have a vision in the middle of a game of Mario Kart all Taehyun would see is some weirdo staring off into space. Besides, non-powered visitors just aren’t a thing they have, the house has an impenetrable security system built by Guanlin and if they order takeout someone would go get it rather than bringing a delivery man to the door. They are _very_ big on safety.

“I know we won’t. It’s just weird for me. I don’t want my housemates to scare you off or something.” That's one way to put it.

“Fine.” Taehyun holds his hands up in surrender. “I should stop pushing it. I’m sorry. I just...want to know what that house looks like inside. It’s practically a mansion! And you’re living in it rent free! I still don’t understand how that happened.”

Sungwoon huffs a laugh. How that happened is a story he can never tell Taehyun.

 

  
_When Sungwoon got the letter he immediately balled it up and threw it in the trash if only to stop himself from punching a wall and breaking his hand. What the hell did they mean they couldn’t give him a free place in the dorms anymore? He was supposed to be on an all expenses paid scholarship!_

_He went down to the administration office. He tried to be as polite as he could, even though what he really wanted to do was scream. He sat in one of the dingy waiting room chairs until he could finally speak to someone who could actually help him._

_The Finances Administrator was a man with dark hair and glasses who looked just the right mix between strict and nerdy to be the perfect person to work in education. His nameplate read '_ _Mr. Lee.'_

_“What can I help you with, Mr...Ha?” He asked._

_“I’m on an all expenses paid scholarship, but I just got a letter saying my accommodation funds have been cut, as well as my access to on-campus meals and textbooks and supplies. There must be some kind of mistake,” Sungwoon explained._

_“Right, well, just give me a moment to look into that for you.”_

_The man wandered over to a filing cabinet and started meticulously going through it. Sungwoon sat and twiddled his thumbs._

_“Sungwoon? Third year student? Majoring in physics, minoring in Psychology and History?” He asked, reading from one of the files._

_“That’s right.” Sungwoon nodded._

_“I see.” Mr. Lee went back to his chair, the file still in hand, and started typing something into the computer on his desk one key at a time. Why he couldn’t just look Sungwoon up on the computer was a mystery to Sungwoon, but he seemed like the type to prefer pens and books over computers except when necessary._

_“I’m sorry, Sungwoon, but it appears that letter was correct.” He said five minutes later. “Government funding has been cut and we had to make sacrifices. We can only afford to give full scholarships to the...more reliable students.”_

_“What do you mean more reliable?” Sungwoon was trying not to show his anger. “I get A’s on everything! I have maybe two absences the whole time I’ve been here!” It was actually three; he had caught the flu from his asshole roommate on the 13th of May last year and went to his lectures again as soon as he’d stopped throwing up on the 17th._

_“That’s true.” Mr. Lee agreed. “But the issue is your school track record. It seems you only started pulling the grades you needed for a full scholarship in your last year of High School. Before that you were just scraping by on getting admitted to an educational facility of this calibre at all. Most of our other scholarship students, however, have consistent grades throughout their school careers on top of a flawless track record.”_

_“I promise my grades won’t drop again! I’ll never have another absence the whole time I’m here! I’ll graduate with honours. I can do this.” Sungwoon said, not sure if he was insisting or pleading._

_“I’m sorry, It is the way it is. I’m sure you can find the funds, you’re still covered until the end of the school year and then it’s your last year before graduation.” He waved Sungwoon off._

_Sungwoon didn’t bother to point out that there were only two months left of this school year, or that next year wasn’t going to be his last year because he was planning on going on to do a post-graduate degree. it was clear he wasn’t going to get anywhere with this guy, he would have to find a different administrator, or anyone else who could help him._

_It wasn’t fair, Sungwoon thought as he left the office. He’d been trying his best to get into this school, It wasn’t as if he’d just let his powers do everything for him that last year, they’d just given him the boost he needed so his parents wouldn’t have to spend god knows how much money to get him into this place._

_A week later he was running out of options. Everyone he had spoken to had said that they couldn’t do anything. He’d just came out of yet another appointment, and she’d sent him away with “Sungwoon, there’s nothing me or any other faculty can do, and if we’re being honest the funding situation is just going to be worse next year. If you really can’t afford it you may have to consider more appropriate education options. Now, we can’t keep making time for you, You’re not more important than anyone else, please accept what I have to say or we’ll need to discuss whether you can attend this institution next year at all.”_

_Sungwoon sighed as he leaned against the large bulletin board standing on the quad. It wasn’t that he technically couldn’t afford it, as long as his education was still paid for he could probably scrape by with a part time job and a diet of ramen— not the good ramen, the store brand twenty cent stuff._

_He’d been about to leave when a flyer on the bulletin board caught his attention, or more accurately the words “super cheap house share!” in large block letters did. He pulled it from the board wondering what the catch was, a crack den? Serial killers? No aircon?_

_He was about to put the flyer back, already thinking it was too risky, when the text at the bottom caught his eye. It was a list of their requirements in a roommate but it only had one line._

 

 

  * _Must have been to see the witch in the little house across the marble bridge._



 

 

_It took Sungwoon a second to realise what it meant, because the words didn’t make any sense in the context….unless they meant you had to have powers._

_Sungwoon didn’t know how to process that. He’d known there must be other people with powers; he’d figured that much out when he’d figured out what had happened to him, but he’d never actually met anyone else with them before...if whoever this person was did even really have them and wasn't just luring in people like him to perform experiments on them or something._

_He ended up taking the flyer back to his room, staring at it intermittently until he fell asleep. When he woke up, he decided it was worth a shot. He’d just visit the house, take a look around like the flyer suggested, at least as long as nothing tipped him off to this person being creepy when he called to organise it._

_“Hello?” A voice answered the phone after two dial tones. it was male but he couldn't work out anything else just from that one word._

_“Hello. I was calling about an ad for a housing share left at Marble Bridge University. Is this the right number?” Sungwoon asked._

_“Yes, it is!” The man on the other end of the phone answered, upbeat._

_“Okay. Well, I’m interested in the offered house tour whenever you’re free.”_

_“I’m free today, sometime after lunch?”_

_They talked it out and agreed Sungwoon would drop by at half one this afternoon. Sungwoon hung up and forced himself not to second guess this decision before the time came._

_At ten past one Sungwoon got dressed in the nicest casual clothes he had and made his way to the subway station. The guy had listed off the address and directions to him on the phone and Sungwoon had pretended to write them down._

_The house from the outside was...not what he had been expecting, to say the least. A cheap houseshare implied a cheap house, and this place was far from that. Sungwoon had grown up with enough money, nothing to show off about but enough for his family to get by with cash to spare, but it was nothing like this._

_Sungwoon rang the doorbell and immediately tensed up with nerves, trying to prepare himself for whoever or whatever might be behind that door. When it opened the man standing in the doorway looked...normal. He was taller than Sungwoon, but most people were. He seemed to be a couple of years older too, and was completely and utterly normal looking._

_“Hello, Sungwoon?” He said cheerily. “I’m Yoon Jisung, we spoke on the phone earlier?”_

_“Uh, yes, hello.” Sungwoon tried to smile back and held out his hand for Jisung to shake._

_“Let’s talk more inside!” Jisung said quickly. He only glanced at Sungwoon’s hand for a second before looking away again...okay then…_

_The inside of the house was as nice as the outside. It was just the right balance of modern and classic that made it both stylish and homely. Jisung got to work on giving him a tour quickly, talking a mile a minute. Sungwoon had questions and found himself cutting in a lot, but Jisung didn’t seem to mind._

_“So, is there anyone else living here right now?” Sungwoon asked. Neither the flyer nor the phone call had mentioned how many housemates Jisung was looking for, but from the number of rooms on the upper floors, this house was obviously meant for more than two people._

_“Just one person. His names Daniel. We’ve been friends since we were kids. I bought this house so we could be housemates but we realised we didn’t actually need all the extra space just for us. His boyfriend Seongwoo is over enough that he may as well be living here but he technically doesn’t. They’re not here right now. They’re out on a date or whatever it is they do.” Jisung explained._

_“And you can afford this place all on your own? Just the two of you?”_

_“Well, I paid for the house itself, We split the other costs, but to be honest both of us would be able to afford it on our own if we wanted...the perks of having rich families.” Jisung laughed._

_“Then why apply for housemates? Even with extra space, if you can afford it then why bother?” Sungwoon asked, confused._

_Jisung paused in their walk down the hallway and turned to look at Sungwoon. He looked the most serious he had since Sungwoon met him. “Let me ask you something, Sungwoon? The message at the bottom of the flier, you understand what that meant, right?”_

_“The requirements?” Sungwoon asked, even though he already knew._

_Jisung nodded._

_“It means you’re only looking for people who can do something most people can’t. People with...abilities.” Sungwoon was careful with his words but he was pretty sure he still got the meaning across._

_“People with powers, yes,” Jisung said, not beating around the bush. “Do you have them?”_

_“Do you?” Sungwoon countered, crossing his arms._

_“Yes.”_

_“Prove it.”_

_Jisung seemed to think for a moment, then approached Sungwoon. “I can prove it, but I want your permission first.”_

_“Permission for what?” Sungwoon asked, trying not to show how nervous he felt._

_“My powers aren’t anything flashy. I can’t make a snow-storm indoors or set something on fire from ten feet away. To show you I have powers means you’re going to have to agree to let me know everything about you, because that’s what I do.”_

_Know everything about him? What did that even mean? What was he going to know? His star sign? His bank account details? Well, he’d already come this far, he can’t not go through with it now._

_“Okay,” Sungwoon agreed._

_“Well then,” Jisung said, smiling. “I’ll take that handshake now.”_

_Sungwoon didn’t feel any different when Jisung clasped his hand. Jisung didn’t seem to either, at least as far as Sungwoon could tell from his face. When they let go, Sungwoon was about to complain that nothing had happened when Jisung started talking._

_“Your name is Ha Sungwoon. You were born on March 22, 1994, in this city, it was a Tuesday. You got a Furby for your fifth birthday. You were always fairly popular in school, as well as a good student. You got your first girlfriend in sixth grade, she dumped you a week later because you didn’t like her favourite band. Your power is enhanced memory, It only took you two days to realise what was going on because you suddenly remembered every little thing you’d heard in life that pointed to the existence of powers. You graduated valedictorian. You lost your virginity in a-”_

_“Okay, you can stop there!” Sungwoon interjected._

_“So, do you believe me?”_

_“Yeah, yeah, I do.” Sungwoon breathed._

_“So...wanna move in?”_

_Sungwoon was shocked to receive that question so suddenly, even if it was what he had come here for in the first place._

_“How much is it?” He asked._

_“Oh, you don’t have to pay anything,” Jisung said, like that should’ve been obvious._

_“What? Why would you just let people live in your house for free?”_

_“Because, Sungwoon, my whole life I wanted to help people. That’s why I became a police officer, but then I realised that wasn’t enough. I want to help people like us, and protect people from people like us.” Jisung explained._

_“Well, I don’t need your help. I can pay, honestly,” Sungwoon insisted._

_Jisung snorted. “Did you forget I know why you’re here? You can’t afford to stay in your dorm room anymore, and you can’t move back in with your parents because they moved to the countryside when you went off to college. You need help, that’s okay.”_

_“Well, I can still pay for something! We’ll work something out.” He really didn’t feel comfortable with just taking a free handout like this._

_“Okay, we’ll work something out.” Jisung agreed, though it seemed like he was just placating Sungwoon. “I look forward to living with you, Ha Sungwoon.”_

_“You too,” Sungwoon said. This guy was more than a little unusual, but it wasn’t in any of the ways Sungwoon had feared, and he thought he was honestly looking forward to getting to know him._

 

 “My sugar daddy pays for it,” Sungwoon deadpans.

"Damn, can he be my sugar daddy too?” Taehyun laughs.

“No, you don't need a sugar daddy. You have me, that's more than enough,” Sungwoon teases, pulling Taehyun closer by his waist

“Hmm...true.” Taehyun kisses him again, just a peck. “I’m still gonna walk you to the subway station. See you later.” He says before walking away.

Sungwoon shakes his head fondly before heading to his class.

 

* * *

 

Jaehwan sets his empty cup of coffee down and moves towards the coffee machine to make a fresh pot. This would be his fourth cup of the morning, but he needs it. He was up all night trying to write a song and basically got nowhere. He’d thought about catching a few hours sleep this morning but then he’d gotten called over here, much to his annoyance.

“Drinking so much coffee is bad for your health, you know?” Daniel says, rounding the breakfast bar to put the milk back in the fridge.

“Fuck off, just because you’re a healer doesn’t mean you give a damn about health and we know it. Don’t pretend you didn’t live off gummy bears for three days straight last week.” Jaehwan responds, pouring himself a cup now that the pot finished brewing.

Daniel laughs. “Okay, I may not give a damn about my health, doesn’t mean I don’t care about yours.”

Jaehwan tries not to spit out his coffee. Why does Daniel have to be so sweet sometimes? And with that laugh. It’s infuriating.

“I care about everyone’s health around here, comes with the job,” Daniel adds.

Jaehwan swallows his coffee. Of course Daniel cares about everyone here, Jaehwan isn’t special to him. God, what does he even mean that it comes with the job? It isn’t as if healing is his real job. Like Jaehwan explained to Woojin just a few hours ago, while they are a superhero team, it's just a thing they do in their spare time, it’s not as if they even get paid for it; they do it out of the goodness of their stupid bleeding hearts. Daniel doesn’t even have a real job. He's an unemployed rich boy who moved in with his even richer friend instead of going to college or getting a job.

So why does Jaehwan like him?

Jaehwan downs the rest of the coffee while staring Daniel down out of pure pettiness.

It’s not as if Jaehwan _really_ likes him, he’s just tragically single and latching onto the friendly guy who’s one of his closest friends closest friends. He can’t really like him, because…

Seongwoo appears then, wrapping his arms around Daniel's waist from behind. He whispers something in Daniel’s ear that has him practically doubling over with laughter and then Seongwoo is smiling that cocky grin, and Jaehwan can’t look away.

He can’t really like Daniel because if he did he wouldn’t like Seongwoo too, and he can’t really like Seongwoo because if he did he wouldn’t like Daniel too...It is a complex conundrum of feelings that makes no sense to him, so he pushes the feelings away.

Besides, if he really liked one— or even both— of them, wouldn’t he be jealous seeing them together like this? He thinks he was, at first. He used to feel envy bubble up inside him every time they casually clasped hands on the couch or would brush the others cheek with a gentle kiss, but now...it is different...seeing them together still makes him feel something, but it is no longer the bitter taste of jealousy. He doesn’t know what it is, exactly, but it's...nice.

It isn’t supposed to be _nice._

This is all Jisung’s fault, he's sure of it. If he never met Jisung none of this would be happening right now, or if he never just spent those few months considering joining the police force instead of going straight into music like he knew he wanted.

 

  _Jaehwan had passed police academy training, annoyingly enough. He’d been hoping he wouldn’t. He had literally no interest in being a police officer. He’d gone to training because his mom had wanted him to follow in her footsteps. She’d been an exemplary officer and even promoted to captain before she retired. He’d been hoping to flunk out, he’d expected it, he was hardly police material, but apparently, they weren’t as strict about actually being good at the job as he’d thought._

_He’d considered just quitting then and there, but he’d already admitted to his mother that he’d passed the test when she’d asked and he couldn’t imagine the look on her face if he backed out now. He’d get through this, somehow, it was gonna be fine._

_It was not fine._

_The first thing they’d told him when he’d gotten to his first day on the job was that they were assigning him a partner. It was nothing personal, every rookie cop was assigned an older and more experienced partner, they told him, but Jaehwan didn’t know how long he could sit there and have some old dude yell at him that he wasn’t doing the job he had no interest in doing right before he ended up screaming (and that would not be good, for anybody.)_

_When he was actually introduced to his partner he wasn’t as old as Jaehwan was expecting, nor as...procedural cop drama-esque. Jaehwan held his hand out for the man to shake —he may not want to be here but he still had manners...when he felt like it— only for the receptionist who’d lead him to his assigned partner to shake her head at him. _

_“Officer Yoon Jisung doesn’t shake hands with people, a bit of a germaphobe.” She explained._

_Jaehwan just shrugged and dropped his hand back to his side. Jisung lead them over to their desks, side by side ones for the foreseeable future. When they sat down Jaehwan was ready to just get to work and get it over with, but no one had actually given him work to do yet._

_“I thought we should get to know each other before getting to work,” Jisung said, he had swiveled his chair so that it was no longer facing his desk but rather Jaehwan. Jaehwan reluctantly did the same._

_“What do you wanna know?” Jaehwan asked, cautious._

_“Whatever you’re willing to tell me,” Jisung said, apparently nonchalant in the face of Jaehwan’s attitude._

_“My names Kim Jaehwan and I do not wanna be a cop.” He said flatly._

_“....okay then!” Jisung’s surprised expression disappeared from view as he spun back around to face his desk._

_Jaehwan ended up doing menial paperwork for most of the morning. He hardly paid attention to what it was, just checked boxes and filled in questions with messy handwriting. It was about as stimulating as watching paint dry and he was glad when Jisung said it was time for their lunch break._

_“So, where do you want to go for lunch?” Jisung asked him._

_“I don't really know many places around this area.” He admitted. “I was probably just going to head to wherever is closest.”_

_“That’s probably because there's not many places around here,” Jisung said. “But I know a pretty decent place a few blocks down if you wanna come.”_

_Jaehwan raised an eyebrow. Was Jisung saying he wanted them to get lunch together? Jaehwan had hardly been sparkling company their first conversation, but okay, he wouldn’t turn down coffee and hopefully decent food._

_The place Jisung took him to was a coffee shop. It looked just fine, nice even, all warm tones and comfy booths, but there was a problem._

_“They don't serve real coffee,” Jaehwan complained, looking at the menu board above the counter._

_“What do you mean?” Jisung asked._

_“They don't serve real coffee,” Jaehwan repeated. “It’s all iced this and mocha that.”_

_“Is that a problem?” Jisung asked._

_“No, I guess not." It was a problem. But this was his job now and he’d maybe realised he shouldn't take his dissatisfaction with it out on innocent people._

_He ended up ordering an iced americano. Jisung ordered himself something green as well as a pastry to go with it and they slid into a booth together._

_Jaehwan actually wasn’t sure what to talk about. He wasn’t a quiet guy, but he struggled to lead a conversation with someone who he didn't know, if only because he knew he could come on too strong when he got comfortable. Luckily, Jisung seemed to have no such qualms._

_“So, what do you wanna do if you don't want to be a police officer?” Jisung asked. His voice didn't contain any traces of the judgment he was expecting after his earlier statement, whether that be judgment for not wanting to be in his partner's chosen career or just for doing a job he hated. instead, Jisung just sounded genuinely interested._

_“I want to sing,” Jaehwan told him after a moment._

_“Then why don't you?”_

_Why didn't he? Boy, was that a loaded question. He told Jisung about how much his mom had wanted him to join the police, that was the reason he was here after all, if it wasn't the only reason that he didn't sing then Jisung never had to know that._

_“Is that really what you want? To do what your parents want rather than what you want?” Jisung asked. They’d both drank at least half their drinks by now and the pasty had been demolished after Jisung had offered Jaehwan a few bites, but apparently, they were in no rush to leave._

_“What about you? Is this really what you wanted?” Jaehwan changed the subject._

_“Oh yeah,” Jisung said. “It wasn't what my parents wanted for me at all.”_

_“What the hell is rebellious about becoming a citizen upholding the law?” Jaehwan asked with a raised brow._

_“It’s not about upholding the law, not for me, I’m here to help people."_

_“And that's rebellious?”_

_“Apparently so, yeah,” Jisung snorted._

_Jaehwan couldn't help it, he laughed. He didn't really understand what it was he found funny about the situation, maybe just the absurdity of it, maybe that he and Jisung were complete opposites who were strangely similar, whatever it was didn't matter, this was the most he’d laughed in months._

_They went back to the department when they’d finally finished their drinks. Jaehwan continued his work in a slightly better mood and even made idle chit-chat with Jisung and some of his co-workers who were curious about the new recruits, he still hated the job but maybe it would be mildly easier to stick out than he thought._

_Things continued like that for a good week or so until Jaehwan was sent on his very first assignment outside the office, Jisung in tow, of course._

_The case was a simple home robbery, or at least, it was supposed to be. The apartment that was robbed was an average place, comparable to his own, nothing special but not a bad place to stay._

_The victim was a young man who claimed his television, computer, and all money left in his home had been stolen while he was out at work._

_“Do you have any suspicions on who might have done this?” Jisung asked him, holding a pen and notepad._

_“My neighbour downstairs never liked me.” the man, Taedong, if Jaehwan remembered correctly, shrugged. Whatever bad blood there was between them was clearly casual, at least on his side._

_“And that’s all you can think of?  No issues with coworkers? Friends or family?” Jisung checked._

_“Well, my brother and I stopped getting along when we were teenagers. All we did is fight and ignore each other until he moved out. But he lives nowhere near here.”_

_“Okay, that will be all for now, thank you.” They both collected their stuff and left the apartment._

_An interview with the aforementioned neighbour ended up fruitless. He’d been on the night shift at his factory packing job. It was an airtight alibi. Next, they looked into Taedong’s brother._

_It was true that the man's brother, who they found out was called Taemin after some digging, didn’t live in Southway City. He lived over in Pitchmire. But after more research, no one there that they could think to contact had seen him in a week, and one of his co-workers claimed he’d said he was going on a trip, just a couple of days drive away, which was exactly the distance between Pitchmire and Southway._

_They were running low on leads when Taedong called them, panicked, stating someone was trying to break into his apartment again, this time with him still inside it._

_They rushed over but by the time they got there the door was swung wide open, It didn’t appear smashed in or broken down, the only actual damage seemed to be to the lock itself. Jaehwan touched it to find it was covered in...something cold, that's for sure._

_He and Jisung entered the apartment as discreetly as they could. Taedong was stood in the living room, as well as another man who Jaehwan recognised from a grainy photo in their database — it was Taemin. _

_The two siblings were screaming at each other, squaring into each other's space in a clear sign of aggression. This could escalate into a physical fight any moment now._

_“Police! Please step away from each other and remain calm!” Jisung said, strong and authoritative. The police didn’t carry guns here, but Jisung’s hand was hovering over the can of mace in his belt._

_Both men turned to look at them. Taedong looked towards them with a face full of relief, but his brother was nowhere near as happy with their presence. His face contorted into one of rage and panic._

_“You called the fucking cops?” Taemin screamed in his brother's face._

_“You were breaking into my place! You stole my stuff! What did you expect?!” Taedong shouted back._

_“Maybe a little bit of brotherly hospitality?” The brother asked sarcastically._

_“Brotherly hospitality?!” Taedong spluttered. “You stole from me! You broke into my apartment.”_

_“Because you got the easy life! You always did! It isn’t fair!” Taemin yelled._

_This clearly angered Taedong, who reached for the nearest object — a glass tumbler that seemed to still have the last dregs of whiskey in it— and threw it. It smashed against the wall. Jaehwan cringed. Taedong’s brother moved to grab him. _

_“Fucking….Stop!” Jaehwan yelled, moving towards them without really meaning to._

_He internally had to laugh at how unprofessional that was; he clearly didn’t have the temperament for this. When he was irritated that was it, there was no hiding it away behind a controlled demeanor — it came out whether he wanted it to or not. He didn’t get long to laugh at himself, however. Maybe he’d angered Taemin, or startled him, or he’d just finally decided it was time to deal with them, whatever his reason, he swiveled towards Jaehwan with his jaw set. He didn’t touch Jaehwan, merely threw his arm out towards him, but something certainly hit him. _

_The first thing Jaehwan registered was something slamming right into the centre of his chest. The second thing he registered was cold, so much cold. It was so cold it hurt, so much so that he falls to the ground clutching his chest. He could feel that cold feeling seeping deeper, past his shirt and his now unbearably painful skin, and right into his body._

_The last thing he registered before he lost consciousness was screaming._

 

  _First, it was sound. It was always sound. It was all his mind registered. He was sure it was someone talking, maybe to him or maybe there were two voices, but he couldn’t make sense of the words. Next, it was light, his eyes were closed, he thought, but it was streaming harshly through his eyelids. He groaned, and for a second, it was silent._

_“He’s waking up,” a voice said. It was familiar to Jaehwan, but he wasn’t in the right space to figure out who it was right now. “Thank god!”_

_Jaehwan opened his eyes. They took a moment to adjust to the bright room but when they did he saw Jisung hovering by him. Jaehwan looked around to see where he was; it was an unfamiliar house, and he was lying on...was this a dining table? He tried to sit up, confused, only for the movement to set off a sharp burst of pain in his upper body._

_“Careful,” There was a hand steadying his shoulder and it wasn’t until then that Jaehwan knew for sure that there was someone in the room other than him and Jisung.  He startled, finally remembering the less than safe situation he’d been in before he’d apparently passed out._

_He followed the arm up to a face, thankful to see it wasn’t either of the men from the apartment before. It was, in fact, a man he’d never seen before in his life. He looked...soft. His pink hair, his features, the oversized shirt hanging off his frame, all of it made for a picture that was far from intimidating despite his broad shoulders and most likely tall frame._

_“I was working on healing you while you were asleep. All the real damage is gone but you woke up before I could completely heal it,” the soft looking boy explained. “I’m Daniel, by the way,” he introduced himself with small a raise of his hand._

_“Healing me? What do you mean?” Jaehwan asked. Theoretically, there may have been something someone could do on their kitchen table to stop him freezing to death or whatever had been about to happen, but it didn’t seem likely unless he was a lot less hurt than he thought, and just the phrase “healing” sounded unusual, nothing a real medical professional would use._

_Daniel smiled, and Jaehwan was so distracted by it that he missed Daniel reaching out to touch him until his hand was already splayed across Jaehwan’s chest. Jaehwan was about to ask him what the fuck he was doing when he felt it, the last of his pain seemed to leech away slowly and he sighed in relief._

_“That’s what I mean,” Daniel said, removing his hand. Jaehwan feels a pang of disappointment at the loss of it...he must be more out of it than he thought._

_“Oh,” Jaehwan said in realisation. Daniel must have some kind of power. “Then does that mean...?” Jaehwan trailed off, looking over to Jisung._

_“Yeah...sorry, by the way, someone had to carry you out of there and get you in the car, so I kind of know your whole life story now.” Jisung appeared to be doing very awkward jazz-hands._

_“I….okay, I guess!”_

_Jaehwan wasn’t going to question it right now, he was too tired. What did he have to hide anyway? That time in 7th grade where he’d spent two days learning the rap to Shaggy’s It Wasn’t Me? Well nice try, Jisung, but he still pulled out that trick every time he was drunk at parties!_

_“Is that how...you know...about me?” It had dawned on him that Jisung and Daniel weren’t acting like it was a big deal that they had powers at all, meaning they must not expect him to run out screaming, or even question it, meaning they figured that Jaehwan himself must not think it’s a big deal._

_“I knew before that. You screamed,” Jisung explained. “I think you nearly made my eardrums bleed, by the way. What was that?” He didn’t sound annoyed at Jaehwan for inflicting pain on him,  just genuinely and enthusiastically interested to hear about his power._

_“I manipulate sound,” Jaehwan answered, unsure how to phrase it but deciding to just hope it works out. “Almost everything makes sound. There are soundwaves in the air all the time, I can...make those louder, make them quiet...use them to destroy things, if I wanted. But the scream, that comes straight from me. It’s part of me, I scream and it destroys things, hurts people...that’s why I don’t sing, I’m afraid I'll hit a high note and it'll land someone in the emergency room.” Jaehwan finished with a shrug. He was just glad he was in a weakened state earlier or Jisung’s eardrums may have bled after all._

_“Well then, keep it down from now on, it would be appreciated,” Jisung laughed, and that was that._

_Once Jaehwan felt up to it they all sat around the dining table instead of him on it and them hovering around it. Jisung made coffee, hot and black for Jaehwan, while the other two men sipped much sweeter concoctions. Jaehwan appreciated the gesture, and he didn’t want to point out that maybe he didn’t hate different kinds of coffee as much as he’d thought._

_“So, what are you gonna do now, Jaehwan?” Jisung asked him._

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I mean now it’s clearer than ever to me that you don’t want this job, and you did just get severely injured, do you need a better reason to leave?”_

_Jaehwan mulled over Jisung’s words. He was right, despite police work, for the most part, not being as bad as he thought, he still didn’t want to do it for the rest of his life.  He knew that without Daniel’s help that injury would have been serious, maybe even life-threatening, and he had no desire to die young._

_Yes, he’d feel like he was disappointing his mom, and he didn’t want to do that, but he was sure she’d understand eventually. She’d became a police officer because it was her dream, surely she couldn’t hold it against him for following his own? Or at least as close as he could get?_

_“I’m gonna quit, first thing tomorrow,” Jaehwan said, resolutely._

_Jisung smiled. “Good. Well, in that case, it was nice knowing you, Kim Jaehwan.”_

_“Hey, you can’t get rid of me that easily,” Jaehwan said. “You have my number. I have yours. I’m sure we’ll see each other around sometime.”_

_“I hope so,” Jisung replied, smile growing._

_“It’s getting late, I’ll walk you out...unless you want to stay here?” Daniel offered._

_Jaehwan shook his head. He preferred to be in his own space, especially in moments like this where he needed to clear his head and think._

_They took the short walk to the door and Daniel opened it to let him out. “You know,” Daniel said suddenly. “I hope you were right.”_

_“I usually am, but what about?” Jaehwan wondered where this was going._

_“That we can’t get rid of you that easily,” Daniel said. “Me and Jisung don’t really talk to many people since we moved away from home, it would be nice to have you around.”_

_Jaehwan didn’t know why he was blushing._

_“Y-yeah, sure,” He stuttered._

_“I hope you sing, too. I know you’re scared, but if you do stick around maybe we can make sure that what you’re so scared of doesn’t happen.”_

_Jaehwan didn’t know what to say to that, He felt like his voice was stuck somewhere in his throat._

_Daniel smiled before closing the door, and Jaehwan felt a feather-light fluttering sensation in his stomach and a small smile blooming on his own face._

_Weird._

_It had been a long day._

 

Yeah, totally all Jisung’s fault.

“Hey, Jaehwan?”

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear, though that’s probably only because he’s in the devil's kitchen drinking his coffee.

“Yeah, Jisung?”

“Before you go, can we talk? In the study?” He continues.

Jaehwan groans but gets up to follow Jisung. They only ever use the study for serious conversations, ones they want to keep away from the kid's ears. It's a good place considering most of the kids never go in there since half of them are allergic to books and any kind of studying and the rest prefer to hole themselves up in their rooms or study at the dining table.

When he and Jisung enter everyone Jaehwan's expecting to be there is already there, that being Daniel, Seongwoo, Minhyun, and Sungwoon, who only came home from his morning classes a few minutes ago. Jaehwan guesses Sungwoon’s lunch break was what they were waiting for instead of doing whatever this was earlier.

“We need to talk about Woojin,” Jisung says.

“What about him?” Sungwoon asks, and the question is on everybody else's face as well.

“There’s a chance the people he worked for could come after him. I don’t know how likely that is, he says not very, that most of them probably won’t even notice. I just think we should be careful.”

“We’re about as safe as we could be here, you know that,” Sungwoon says in a comforting tone.

“I know. I’m not too worried about that. I just don’t want him to worry about this. I want all of us to look out for him and how he’s doing, emotionally. Not just that, but that place wasn’t nice, how he ended up there probably wasn’t that nice either. I don’t know if anything really bad happened to him, but I think we should...be careful, at least until he trusts us enough to let us know more.”

Everyone nods in agreement, clearly taking Jisung’s words to heart.

“Is that all then? Seongwoo and I were gonna go check out that new place on 14th street and should probably get going,” Daniel says, winding his arm around his date’s shoulders.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Jisung tells the couple, “have fun, lovebirds!”

“Lovebirds? We’ve been together since I was sixteen, we’re practically an old married couple at this point.” Daniel laughs.

“Yet here you are fawning all over each other like you still are sixteen. Ah, young love,” Jisung says, jokingly wistful.

It's true. Daniel and Seongwoo are as all over each other and cheesily fond of each other as you’d expect from two infatuated kids who just met yet are so convinced they're in love, not a steady couple of years. It isn’t like they are so all over each other it makes people uncomfortable; most of their public displays of affection are just Seongwoo teasing Daniel and making a joke, but you can't look at them without seeing the love between them, or maybe that’s only Jaehwan.

“Bye guys. We’ll see you later!” Seongwoo says, and with that, they leave.

 Jaehwan follows a few minutes later, still planning to head home, to either get some rest or get some work done. He expects the couple to be long gone by now, but when he steps onto the street what he sees is Seongwoo pressing Daniel against his car. The two are kissing passionately, lips working against each other. Jaehwan freezes, embarrassment and want curling together in his stomach until he feels all twisted up inside, but still unable to move.

It takes a while, but eventually the couple must feel someone's eyes on them because they break apart and look at him. Daniel, at least, has the decency to look embarrassed, but Seongwoo has an annoyingly cocky grin on his face.

“You know, if you wanted to join us, you could have just asked,” Seongwoo says, and those words would be a blessing to Jaehwan’s ears if Seongwoo wasn’t chuckling to himself as he said them.

“Damn, looks like it’s on the list right after gauging my eyes out. I’ll RSVP when I’m free though.” Jaehwan replied, glad he has just enough control to come off deadpan even though he still feels like there's a storm in him, making it hard to breathe as it ravages his lungs.

He turns to leave, Seongwoo shouts a cheery goodbye after him and Daniel seconds it, though from the sound of Daniel’s voice Jaehwan can practically see how he's hiding his face in his hands right now.

Once he’s a safe distance away and slightly calmer he pulls out his phone, typing out a text as he walks.

 **Jaehwan:  
** **man, fuck feelings**

 **Sungwoon:  
** **Still not going well with the annoying overgrown puppy and his extra annoying boyfriend, I take it?**

 **Jaehwan:  
** **Fuck you too**

 **Sungwoon:  
** **I’ve said this before but wow, I can’t believe they’re not in love with you already, you’re all as annoying as each other, It’s perfect.**

 **Sungwoon:  
** **Really though man, I hope it works out :/ love you or whatever**

 **Jaehwan:  
** **love you or whatever too, fucker**


	3. Chapter 3

 Jisung doesn’t feel entirely comfortable with the thought of leaving Woojin for the day. Normally, it’s fine, because all the kids except Guanlin and Jihoon attend school during the majority of his shifts. But when he asked Woojin about school he said he didn’t go and had no interest in going, to which Guanlin shouted 'Hell yeah! Drop-out club!' while fist-pumping the air. Jisung doesn’t mind leaving Guanlin while he is at work or leaving the others on his rare weekend shifts, because he knows they're comfortable with whoever else is at home, but Woojin has only been here for a couple of days and it’s hard to gauge how comfortable he is with them all so far.

Still, he has no choice. His shift starts in twenty minutes and he’s always saving up his vacation days in case he really needs them.

He arrives at the station just in time after grabbing coffee from the shop a few blocks over. He tries not to be picky about coffee but he’d still rather be a few minutes late than drink whatever brand of instant is in the pot here.

“Good morning, officer Yoon,” A familiar, sleepy sounding voice greets him as he slides into his chair.

Jisung has been working with Officer Jeong as his partner for over a year now but they never really got friendly. There’s no reason they shouldn't be friends— they aren’t too far apart in age and have at least one thing in common, even if that thing is their line of work. Jisung tried to get close to him at first, but the man seemed like the type who likes to keep to himself, so eventually, he left it alone. They exchange these morning greetings, they talk about the job, and that works well enough for everyone.

“Morning, Officer.” Jisung even got over internally cringing at the formality every time he says that.

Desk work takes up most of the morning. When he was an idealistic child, dreaming of helping people, no one told him just how much filling out forms it would involve. It is by far his least favorite part of the job, and by the end of it his wrist is aching almost as much as his brain is melting.

“Yoon, Jeong. I have a case for you. Meet me in my office,” The captain says as she walks past their desks,

Jisung happily gets up and makes his way over to the office. His partner follows behind him.

Kahi is the definition of a no-nonsense woman, at least when it comes to her job. She is tough and dedicated, everything he’d expected from a captain when he started this job. Usually he doesn’t get along too well with people who don’t have a lighter side— though he is sure Kahi does, somewhere, he just never gets to see it since he is her subordinate rather than a friend— but while they have nothing but a working relationship, his respect for Kahi is immeasurable. She is good and just and everything actually admirable about the legal system.

“What is it, captain?” he asks.

“There’s been a case of aggravated assault downtown. The victim has already been taken to the hospital and is under their care. I’m sending you two to keep an eye on them and follow up.”

Both Jisung and officer Jeong nod. It sounds like an easy enough job, provided it all goes to plan.

On the drive to the hospital, there’s some talk about the job. They talk about how best to approach the victim, the right questions to ask, go over their basic medical knowledge to remind themselves what they can learn from whatever injuries they can encounter, all in all, it’s a regular but productive trip.

It turns out to be for nothing because when they get there the patient is fast asleep.

A nurse tells them as much as she’s leading to the room, but she doesn’t try and stop them once they flash their badges. When she leads them into the room, Jisung almost wishes she told them to come back later.

The victim is indeed asleep, but Jisung doesn’t understand _how_. It might sound ridiculous considering his line of work, both official and not, but Jisung has always been the squeamish type. The sight of blood and gore make him sick to his stomach, because he can’t look at it without thinking about how much pain that person must be in. That’s what hurts him most, when he looks at someone suffering it makes him feel like he may as well be hurt with them.

Half of the victim’s face is covered in sterile white bandages; dark red blood is starting to seep through them despite the fact they must be fresh. His arms, lying still on top of the thin blanket, are more bruise than flesh coloured— they’re littered in blues, purples, and greens; It is a modern art painting of the evils of humanity.

Jisung feels a phantom tingling on his arm, right where a burnt red hand-print should be.

It’s his partner who notices the other boy in the room. The boy is sat on a chair next to the hospital bed, so quiet and still that Jisung isn’t surprised he hadn’t noticed him. He doesn’t seem to have noticed them either. He’s staring unblinkingly at the boy in the bed, hands hooked under his chin.

Jeong nudges Jisung, bringing him out of his own head and putting his attention on the boy.

“Talk to him. You were always better at that part. I’ll go over the victim’s chart for updates on his condition.”

Jisung nods distractedly and lets his partner pick up the chart from the edge of the bed and sit on the other side of the room. With the way Jeong blends into the scenery, the unconscious state of the boy on the bed, and the way the other is practically catatonic, Jisung almost feels like the only one here.

“Hello.” Jisung gently touches the boy's shoulder, but it’s still not gentle enough to stop him from jumping in his seat, eyes searching the room frantically before finally landing on Jisung. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m not a ghost. I’m with the police department.” Jisung laughs.

The boy nods in understanding.

“Are you going to catch the person who hurt him?” He asks.

“We’re working on it,” Jisung says softly. “Are you family?”

“No, Euiwoong was….my best friend,” the boy says. He seems to zone out for a moment, thinking about something, then suddenly snaps back to himself. “Oh! I’m Ahn Hyungseob, by the way! I’m sorry for not introducing myself earlier.”

“Yoon Jisung.” He smiles

The boy smiles back but doesn’t say anything else. Hyungseob’s smile drops and he instead falls back into the heavy silence Jisung had found him in.

Jisung pulls up a chair from the corner of the room, not a padded armchair like the one Hyungseob was sat in but a small and rickety plastic thing, and sits next to him.

There’s something niggling at him, maybe it’s nothing, but maybe it isn’t.

“What do you mean Euiwoong _was_ your best friend?” he asks Hyungseob. “He’s in rough shape, but you’re not going to lose him. You know that, right?”

“It’s not that, it’s-” Hyungseob seems to be warring with himself on what to say. In the end, he just sighs and says “It’s nothing. Euiwoong is my best friend, that’s what I meant. I guess I just used the past tense because...He’s been asleep for a while, and I’m tired.”

Jisung hums in response, thinking.

“I should get going,” Hyungseob says suddenly. “My boss is going to kill me if I’m late for my shift again.”

“Wait,” Jisung says.

Hyungseob freezes from where he’s began gathering up his jacket and bag.

“Can you come down to the station after your shift? We’d like to ask you a few questions.” Jisung continues.

“Am I in trouble? I didn’t have anything to do with this,” He says quickly.

“It’s just routine. Anything people close to the victim of a crime may know can be useful,” Jisung carefully explains.

Hyungseob nods. He gives Jisung his phone number when he requests it, though says it isn’t necessary as he won’t ditch coming down to the station, then finally leaves to head to his job.

“I don’t trust him,” Jisung voices his thoughts to his partner the second they’re alone.

“Yeah, me neither,” Jeong agrees.

 

Lee Euiwoong doesn’t wake up in the few hours they spend there. Jisung starts to gets concerned an hour in and calls a nurse to make sure that he hasn’t fallen into a coma due to his injuries or something, but she assures them that he’s sleeping like any healthy person would and that his body just needs extra rest to help with the healing process.

As they’re leaving, Jisung throws one last look towards the young man’s sleeping figure. He hopes they stay assigned to this case so that he can come back soon. He’d like to see Euiwoong when he was actually awake, to talk to him and know how he is handling everything. It isn’t part of the job, in fact, it isn’t recommended to get attached, but it’s a side-effect that Jisung just can’t shake.

He never could ignore his desire to help

He watches as the department clock ticks down. The hands read quarter to four. Hyungseob claimed his shift finishes at three. Admittedly, Jisung doesn’t know how long it would take to travel from wherever it was he works to the precinct, but this is bordering on too long.

He decides to give Hyungseob until four before he makes use of the number in his notebook and calls the boy.

Thankfully for both of them, Hyungseob comes rushing in at 3:59, in such a hurry he almost trips at the door.

“Sorry, I’ve never actually been down here before. I thought I knew where the building was, but apparently not,” he says once he locates Jisung.

“That’s quite alright,” Jisung says. Hyungseob is smiling at him brightly, a far cry from the boy at his alleged best friend’s hospital bedside. Why is he so different? Is it just the fact that he’s no longer staring his injured friend in the face? It would make enough sense, but at the same time, Jisung isn’t sure.

Jisung shows him to the interview room and closes the door behind them. He never liked this room. It’s a small rectangle, practically claustrophobic in its size. The pale wallpaper is peeling a little at the edges and contrasts harshly with the dark carpet. The only furniture is a table with a plastic chair on either side. It’s designed, of course, to be unpleasant for the criminals they’re trying to crack in there, but it’s a wonder it doesn’t crack some of the detectives first.

“I’m going to explain the interview process to you,” Jisung starts once he and Hyungseob have taken their seats, instantly transforming into the best professional policeman he could be. “I’ll start by asking you some routine questions, if there’s anything I think may be relevant to Mr. Lee’s case the questions may become more personal. You are advised and expected to answer these questions honestly and to the best of your ability, you may already know that lying to law enforcement is a criminal offence. However, as you are not being charged with a crime, we can not hold you here against your will. Do you understand all of that?”

Hyungseob looks like he’s still processing all of the information, but he nods nonetheless.

“What’s your relationship to the victim?” Jisung asks. He already knows the answer, or at least what Hyungseob told of it to him earlier, but it’s part of the protocol.

“We’re friends,” Hyungseob answers. It sounds a lot more sure than earlier but also little rehearsed.

“How long have you known each other?”

“We’re neighbours. We didn’t find that out until he started at my high school and we ended up in the same group of friends though.”

“Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt Euiwoong? Enemies, suspicious people he may have got involved with?”

Hyungseob snorts. “Euiwoong was the class president with straight A’s and a spotless reputation. I don’t think he would have even known any bad people to get involved with. As for enemies, our group of friends mostly sticks together but we’re generally pretty well-liked, especially Euiwoong.”

Jisung nods and writes down Hyungseob’s answers.

“Next question, where were you between six and nine p.m last night?” Jisung asks. An ambulance was called for Euiwoong at nine thirty last night, so the suspects the time of the attack was between those hours.

“I was at home between six and eight, after that I-” Hyungseob takes a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. “I went to see Euiwoong at his house. I was the one who called the ambulance. I found him like that. I went to the hospital with him.”

Jisung tries not to let anything he’s thinking show on his face, but internally he’s raising an eyebrow. It’s always considered suspicious when someone's on the scene.

“Was there a particular reason you visited Mr. Lee?”

“I...wanted to talk to him. A couple of days ago we...we fell out, I guess. I wanted to try and fix things, but he didn’t answer my texts so I just went over there. His parents were out at work, and he didn’t answer the door, but I have a spare key so I let myself in. When I went in...he was just...lying _there,_ on his living room floor in a pool of his own blood. I-It was-” Hyungseob is shaking now, taking shuddering breaths that refuse to dislodge the words stuck in his throat.

“Calm down,” Jisung says gently. No matter what suspicions he may have when it comes to Hyungseob he didn’t want to see the boy like this. “Here, follow my breathing okay?”

Jisung takes slow and deep breaths, mentally urging Hyungseob to do the same. For a while, the tiny room is filled with Hyungseob’s sobs and rattling breaths, but eventually, the young man starts to calm down as he follows Jisung’s example.

“Are you feeling a bit better now?” He asks. He’s tempted to run a comforting hand through Hyungseob’s hair or something, but that can’t happen for a multitude of reasons, from the fact it may make things worse, to being inappropriate in their current dynamic, to, of course, his powers. He’s been asked a couple of times why he doesn’t purposefully use his powers on the job— why do things the old-fashioned way when he could know in a split-second if someone's guilty or not? But he refuses to intentionally breach someone’s privacy like that without their explicit permission, no matter the circumstances. Besides, even if he did know, that isn’t proof. He’d still have to go about the rest of the process the same way, just with the answer already uselessly floating around in his mind.

Hyungseob nods weakly. Jisung gives him a few more moments to get himself together before saying anything more.

“Are you okay with continuing the interview?” He asks eventually.

Hyungseob nods weakly again. Jisung is almost tempted to just send him home, but he’d just be dragged back for more questions sooner or later, not just because he is close with the victim but because he was, by his own admittance, at the scene during the estimated time of the crime and is the one who called it in. That would be cause for suspicion in any police officer's mind.

“Okay, let's go back a little bit. You said that you and Euiwoong had fallen out recently. Why was that?”

“It...it’s stupid, oh my god, it- _I_ was so stupid,” Hyungseob groans. “He told me...something. I didn’t know how to react to what he told me and from there we just...let it spiral out of control, I guess. Oh my god, I could have lost him and we wouldn’t even have been speaking. He would have died thinking we weren’t even friends.” Hyungseob isn’t panicking this time. Instead, he seems to be in a state of resigned horror at himself and what could have happened.

“He didn’t die, luckily, and he isn’t going to. Don’t think like that. if you just start thinking about what could have been you’re going to get stuck thinking like that. You can’t change the past, all you can do is make the future better,” Jisung says. “Are you willing to tell me what he told you?” He gets back on track.

Hyungseob hesitates, but finally sighs and starts to talk, quietly, his head down. “He told me he has feelings for me. I know what you’re probably thinking, ‘wow, what a stupid teenage problem’, and you’d be right. But at the time it felt like the biggest problem in the world. I’d never thought about him like that, we’d always just been friends, I thought that was how we both felt. But it wasn’t. He said he’d liked me for a while now. I didn’t know what to say, I realised then that I didn’t know what I felt towards him, but I didn’t say that. I just...left.”

Jisung remembers what it’s like when you think you might have feelings for someone. When he was younger any person he had a crush on would become his whole world. They probably still would now, he isn’t sure, he hasn’t fallen for anyone in a while but he doesn’t think you ever really grow out of feelings. It is unfortunate that something so horrible happened while Hyungseob and Euiwoong weren’t talking, but it being romance that tore them apart isn’t exactly surprising.

Jisung tries to ignore the little part of his brain that tells him a romantic relationship between the two of them moves Hyungseob up even higher on the suspect list to no avail.

He doesn’t want Hyungseob to have done this. He seems like a nice boy, and if he’s not pretending then he’s clearly haunted by what’s happened to his friend and possible crush. But Jisung can’t ignore what his intuition is telling him just because he doesn’t want it to be true.

He asks Hyungseob the remainder of the usual questions, but it doesn’t lead to any more information that could actually be useful. By the end of the interview he knows they need to continue this investigation with Ahn Hyungseob in mind as a suspect, but they can’t do anything more there until they get warrants and the other necessary things sorted, so for now Ahn Hyungseob is free to go home with an agreement to not leave town and to be available for any further contact by the police.

Hyungseob leaves the police station and heads out into the evening light of the streets without daring to look back. That signals Jisung’s cue to leave too; his shift finally over. On the drive back he tries not to think of a kid lying in a hospital bed, hurt and probably afraid, but he can’t help it, and he can’t help that Euiwoong’s face blurs into the image of one of the kids waiting back at the house every time he closes his eyes.

He enters the house to the smell of something burning, which would worry him if he hadn’t immediately found an unharmed Daehwi and Woojin sitting cross-legged on the hallway floor, sharing a large bar of chocolate (It actually looks more like Daehwi is force-feeding it to Woojin, breaking off squares and shoving them in Woojin’s mouth before the other boy can turn them down.)

“Minhyun and Jaehwan tried to cook again,” Daehwi explains, deadpan, without Jisung even having to ask. Maybe he knows Jisung would worry, maybe he just wants to insult the older two, knowing Daehwi it was probably both.

Jisung goes to the kitchen to see the damage for himself just in time to see Minhyun pull a blackened husk of... _something_ out of their oven and throw it on the counter as if it was going to explode any minute, though hopefully it wouldn’t and had just been burning through his oven mitts or something.

“I brought home Thai food,” Jisung says, lifting the plastic bag in his hands for them to see.

“Oh, thank god,” Minhyun breathes.

After dinner Jisung heads up to his room once he’s checked there’s nothing anyone needs from him. Most nights he’s more than happy to socialise, but there are those rare days where what he needed was some time alone, time away from his job and his friends no matter how much he loves both. This is one of those days.

He doesn’t bother turning the lights on, he just collapses onto his bed. He knows he can’t sleep right now, even if he wanted to, but he lies on top of the covers with his arm slung over his eyes, still in the same jeans and t-shirt he’d changed into when he took his uniform off.

Jisung doesn’t know how long he lays there wrapped up in his own thoughts before he hears the door creak open tentatively, like the person on the other side isn’t sure they should enter. Jisung’s eyes snap open, but all he sees on the other side is Daniel, Seongwoo, and Jaehwan, all hesitating in the doorway.

He beckons them in and Daniel rushes to the bed with his long legs, lying down next to Jisung so they’re practically face to face. Seongwoo isn’t far behind his boyfriend, lying down on Jisung’s other side. Jaehwan reaches the bed last, choosing to sit at the end in the space below their feet.

“What’s up?” Daniel asks softly, nudging Jisung’s shoulder with his head. Jisung can only just see him in the last remnants of evening light streaming through the window, and that mixed with the quiet way he’s speaking makes this conversation feel private and safe.

“Hard day at work,” Jisung breathes. “There was this kid. He couldn’t have been much older than Jinyoung and Daehwi, and he was...he was so hurt. Someone hurt him.” Jisung stops for a moment, wondering if he should really say what he’s going to say next. “It’s horrific enough as it is, but...I couldn’t help imagining one of them in his place. Maybe that’s not fair to him, but I couldn’t stop myself.”

The three of them don’t interrupt him to say anything, even if he almost wants them to. They’re so quiet that if it wasn’t for the gentle sound of their breathing he could forget they’re there at all. It doesn’t help that he can’t see their faces well enough in this light to read their expressions.

“I know we don’t really do more than stop a robbery here or there, especially when the kids are involved, but that doesn’t change the fact that what we do is _dangerous_. Thieves and petty criminals can be carrying concealed weapons, or know how to kill a man with their fists. What if...what if one of us gets seriously hurt one day?” He finishes unsurely.

He’s scared for more silence, but there’s only a beat until he feels both Daniel and Seongwoo’s arms snake around his middle and Jaehwan throw his legs over Jisung’s, slotting them all together in a pile of comforting touches.

“If one of us gets hurt,” Daniel says slowly, thinking about his words. “Then I’ll be here to fix it. That’s what I’m here for, Jisung.”

Jisung knows that. Daniel’s powers have done wonders for everyone on the team, without him who knows what they would have done or what could have happened. But Daniel is just as mortal and human as the rest of them, maybe even more so since he can’t heal his own injuries, only others’. What if he’s busy and can’t make it in time? What if _he_ gets hurt one day?

“Everyone knows what they’re risking. We all agreed to this.” Seongwoo reminds him. “The kids would be miserable if they didn’t do this. Why those little weirdos can’t get their rush of teenage adrenaline by sneaking out to parties in the middle of the night I don’t know.” Jisung feels more than sees Seongwoo shake his head, as if to say _‘kids these days.’_.

Seongwoo somehow manages to make a good point while being funny _and_ acting like he doesn’t care about the situation much at all, something that would be almost unsettling if this wasn’t 99% of the way Seongwoo communicated.

It’s true. When he first started taking people in, the actual crime-fighting aspect of what was now their everyday life wasn’t supposed to involve anyone but him, with Daniel waiting at home to patch him up if he needed it. It all started with Jihoon. He practically cornered Jisung in the dining room and told him he knew that Jisung was going out and using his powers and he wanted in.

At first Jisung was shocked and confused at the fact Jihoon had even caught him when he’d believed the boy fast asleep whenever he snuck out, but as soon as his senses came back to him he turned Jihoon down flat. The boy didn’t give up though, and slowly the rest of their small group at the time came to him and said they were willing to help out too, whether out of an actual desire they harboured but kept quiet until Jihoon had let them know of the opportunity, or simply not minding being a part of it if everyone else was.

In the end, they became what they are now. Everyone who comes into the house knows what they do right off the bat, and they have the choice on whether to join or not, in whatever capacity is decided appropriate with their age and powers and skill level.

“And we already know you’d be the most miserable of all,” Seongwoo adds.

Jisung can’t attempt to deny that, he wouldn’t even want to.  Jisung couldn’t imagine not doing this with his life.

“Yeah, stop worrying about shit.” Jaehwan nudges Jisung in the calf with his foot.

Their words and comfort have managed to calm Jisung’s turbulent mind a bit, but when he tries to weigh up what they’ve said logically he comes up blank. He’s too tired for all of this right now.

“Thank you, all of you,” he tells them earnestly. “I’m going to sleep now, i think.”

“Okay,” Daniel says, but instead of moving off the bed he snuggles closer, and the others follow suit.

“I take it you’re sleeping here for the night then?” He huffs playfully.

“Of course we are, we can’t leave our leader to be sad.” Daniel smiles up at him, bunny teeth poking slightly over his bottom lip.

Jisung doesn’t respond, he just closes his eyes and lets the others snuggle as close as they want. He drifts off quickly into what may be the most peaceful sleep he’s had in days.

 

* * *

 

Daehwi hates math. Everyone who knows Daehwi knows he hates math. His pet turtle in third grade knew he hates math; it was probably his last thought before he died (rest in peace Channing Turtleum).

Yet, here he is, in math class, again.

He’s been staring blankly at the board for a good few minutes now. He doesn’t understand anything. Apparently, the problems aren’t difficult— he can hear the pen-scratching of his fellow students, but he just doesn’t get them.

Thankfully the lesson ends after a few more minutes of silently screaming into his hands. He grabs his bag and runs out of the room before the teacher can confront him about his empty workbook for the second time that month.

“What the hell was that?” He asks when Somi catches up with him.

“Trigonometry.”

“What the  _hell_ is trigonometry?” He cries.

 After a quick detour through the cafeteria to grab their usual lunches— strawberry milk and a pathetically toasted sandwich for Daehwi, flavoured water and a pot of pasta for Somi— they head to their usual spot on one of the nicer and less crowded tables outside.

Their friends are already sat around the table, or on it, in Siyeon’s case, since no teacher would dare tell her off for it, or anything else. As they get closer the apparently heated conversation their friends are having reaches their ears.

“Look, I’m just saying,” Siyeon starts. “If everyone banded together then the government would be outnumbered. They’d have to do what the people say if we all started working against them instead of for them.”

“And I’m just saying that while you’re probably right, the majority of people would not be willing to rebel as long as they still have something to lose,” Samuel argues, then pours the rest of his packet of cheetos into his mouth.

“Hey, guys!”  Daehwi greets, unperturbed by his friends’ actions after knowing them for years.

“Oh, thank god,” Kyla mutters under her breath, taking her earphones out.

Daehwi and Somi squeeze onto the bench. Siyeon and Samuel’s conversation comes to a halt and instead they talk about anything that isn’t politics, or, even worse, school. Mostly, Somi talks about her crush on the ' _oh my god so cute'_  girl in her history class while the rest of them listen or discreetly scroll through instagram on their phones.

 The bell rings to signal the end of lunch and the courtyard is overtook by groaning. Daehwi has art next, a class not shared by any of his friends, so he starts his walk to the art department alone. He’s on the second floor, so close to his classroom he can almost smell the paint, when something blocks his way.

There’s a group of people standing around the hallway. They’re probably upperclassmen— their bodies are tall but not as awkward and gangly as most of the taller kids his age, instead they actually seem to have some real muscle. Daehwi doesn’t think much of it; he's intending to awkwardly move right through them when he sees one of the boys push another boy into the wall. Daehwi can _hear_ the impact, bones against hard concrete.

The attacker is saying something now, looming over the no doubt hurt and afraid boy, the boy's shirt clutched in his hands so there’s no escape. Daehwi can’t hear what he’s saying, he’s speaking low enough that it would be surprising if anyone but the boy can hear him, but judging from the look on his face Daehwi doubts it’s anything nice.

Daehwi’s fight or flight instincts kick in, but his mind is torn over which one to go for. If he goes with fight then he might have to actually _fight_. Daehwi’s trained a little in multiple styles of fighting, but he’s small and outnumbered and knows without even thinking about it that he’d lose. But can he really choose flight? There’s someone suffering here, and while he knows in the logical part of his mind that most high school bullying cases don’t get too dangerous, could he really live with not doing anything on his conscience?

Daehwi takes a deep breath. He made his decision.

“Hey!” He shouts.

For a second, the scene freezes and so does Daehwi’s heartbeat. The group turns to look at him and his heart still isn’t beating. Daehwi waits, they seem to be waiting too, but none of them do anything. Finally, the one who pushed the other boy into the wall seems to decide it’s not worth it. He shrugs his shoulders, turns to leave, and the rest of them follow him like they’ve been doing it their whole lives. (They probably have.)

They’re out of sight and Daehwi’s heart starts beating again. The boy they were picking on slumps to the ground. Daehwi runs to him.

He should have noticed earlier. He may have been far away but he’d been seeing that slim figure and brunette head of hair in his life for so long now. A constant. Bae Jinyoung is in front of him, crumpled on the ground, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Jinyoung? Are you okay?” Daehwi asks, crouching down so they can be face to face.

Jinyoung looks up at him. For a second his dark eyes go wide, and then, he vanishes.

Daehwi’s surprised, though he knows he shouldn’t be. Jinyoung’s power has let him slip from Daehwi’s sight many times. At first, Daehwi thought it was invisibility, but one day Jisung explained to him that that was only half right. Jinyoung does more than vanish from sight. He is almost like a ghost, slipping away from the physical world, he is still _there_ but he can’t be seen, heard, or even touched. He can move through walls and through people, no longer something tangible. Completely non-corporeal.

“Jinyoung? It’s okay, It’s just me,” Daehwi tries, but there’s no sight of the other boy.

Daehwi doesn’t even know if Jinyoung is still there. He could have run off the second Daehwi could no longer see him and left Daehwi talking to thin air. Daehwi doubts that, though, and even if he did, as long as there is a chance he is still there Daehwi is going to keep trying.

“It’s okay, you know? I used to get bullied too, at my old school. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, if that’s what you’re worried about?”

Jinyoung phases back into existence and looks up at Daehwi with questioning eyes. “ _You_ used to get bullied?”

Daehwi can understand Jinyoung’s disbelief. At this school he has a popular group of friends and as far as he knows no one has anything but nice things to say about him. But what he’s liked for here: his outgoing nature, his passion for his extracurriculars, his little dash of weirdness, is exactly what made kids hate him at his old school.

“Yep,” Daehwi says. “I know how it feels.”

He does, and that’s why his heart is hurting for Jinyoung right now. It’s awful, being made to feel like you were different, and unlovable, and _alone._ It crushes your happiness, your spirit, your very being. The thought of Jinyoung being made to feel like that, and the thought that Daehwi had no idea this whole time, feels almost as bad as it did when it had been happening to Daehwi himself.

“Why did you disappear on me?” Daehwi asks when Jinyoung doesn’t say anything. He tries his best to keep his voice quiet and non-accusatory. They both know powers shouldn’t be used at school, so Daehwi knows Jinyoung didn’t mess up on purpose.

Jinyoung says something this time, but it’s mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” Daehwi asks, scrunching up his nose.

“I was surprised you knew who I was,” Jinyoung says again, louder this time.

Daehwi’s face scrunches up even more.

“Of course I know who you are, you’re at the house like everyday,” Daehwi says.

“I know, what I mean is-” Jinyoung’s floundering now, and Daehwi almost feels bad for putting him on the spot but he’s too curious and confused to let go now.  “I didn’t think you knew I..went here..I didn’t think you’d noticed.”

Daehwi still doesn’t get it. If he's honest, he’d noticed Jinyoung on his first day, before Jinyoung started hanging around at Jisung’s. It was no big deal, the meeting had hardly changed his life, he and Jinyoung hadn’t even spoken, but he had noticed him. Since it was Daehwi’s first day at a new school, he’d scanned every face he’d seen, making note of people. He sorted out the people he’d rather avoid: those who reminded him of taunting laughter, harsh words, the rush in his heart and rain pelting his face as he tried to run away. He sorted out the kids who caused trouble, the ones who slacked but were otherwise harmless, and the ones who were bright and studious. In the back of his mind, he looked at a few kids and thought he wouldn’t mind being friends with them, not that he thought it would ever happen at the time. There was one he found himself more curious about than the others. There was a boy who sat at the back of his english class, at the time he had pitch black hair and Daehwi never saw him smile. He was quiet, but not in the nerdy sense where he was hanging off the teacher's every word. He didn’t seem to be trying to slack either. He just seemed to…exist, somewhere in between. Just a loner, maybe? But that didn’t feel quite right either. Daehwi had the thought that he’d like to talk to this boy one day, whoever he may be, Daehwi got the feeling he was nice, that they’d get along if they ever actually spoke. But at the time Daehwi had been too shy, and by the time his confidence had been built back up he was preoccupied with the group of friends he’d already managed to make.

He never forgot though. He recognised the boy's face the first time Jisung had introduced him with 'This is Bae Jinyoung. He lives down the road. His parents suddenly got called into work and don’t like leaving him alone in the house so I said I’d keep an eye on him until they got back.' All Daehwi said was hi before going back to whatever he was doing before, but he filed away that little piece of information and everything he learned about the mysterious boy in his English class outside the school walls from then on.

“Do your powers activate a lot at school?” Daehwi changes the subject again, feeling like saying anything from his internal monologue would just come off odd, like he was paying too much attention.

Jinyoung has flukes, sometimes, but he’s a lot better at controlling his powers than Daehwi is. Not that that’s saying much, everyone is better at controlling their powers than Daehwi is...well, except Jihoon. Daehwi struggles to make a force-field at all a lot of the time, and when he does he can’t control how wide it spreads or how strong it is before it fizzles out again. He can’t deny that it frustrates him watching Jinyoung and Guanlin excel while he gets left behind.

It isn’t that he’s jealous of his friends, really, he wants them to do well. He just...wants to do well too. More than that, he wants to do better than them, he wants to be the best. He doesn’t know why he’s like this— why failure hurts him straight to his core and he feels like if he’s not the best then he’s _nothing_. He doesn’t want to be jealous, or greedy, he just wants...he doesn’t know what he wants.

Jinyoung shakes his head. “This is the first time in a long time. But- It’s hard...keeping it under control when they’re around. As soon as they corner me I can feel it buzzing at the back of my mind and under my skin, the _want_ to disappear. It only gets worse once they start actually talking, or hitting me, until I think I’m going to burn with how much I want to not be there if it means they’ll stop looking at me, and there’s only a tiny part of me begging not to just vanish.”

Jinyoung seems to have closed in on himself even before, hugging his legs up to his chest. Daehwi feels for him, so much it hurts. How is Jinyoung supposed to focus on fighting back, or even just enduring, when all his energy has to go into staying corporeal enough for their punches to land or else he’d risk making it a hundred times worse?

It isn’t _fair_.

Daehwi knows this. He’s always known that their lives aren’t fair. He tries to roll with it, to stay upbeat despite it, but sometimes, like now, it got its claws into him and he wanted to scream and shout about just how unfair it all was, if only the claws weren’t in his throat too.

“Let me walk you to class,” Daehwi says, standing up and holding out his hand for Jinyoung to grab. There’s a smile pasted back on Daehwi’s face, he doesn’t know if it’s for Jinyoung’s sake or his own.

Jinyoung tentatively takes his hand and pulls himself up, swiftly letting go once he’s standing.

“You don’t have to walk me, you’ll probably be late if you do,” he says.

Daehwi shrugs. “I’m already late.” It’s true.

He usually tries to get to class at least a couple of minutes before the final bell, but with the time he had used talking with Jinyoung he’d probably already been marked absent from the lesson.

Jinyoung seems to accept this and they walk together, Daehwi letting Jinyoung lead since the other boy hadn’t actually told Daehwi what his next class is.

They don’t talk, and the silence seems loud in the empty hallways. It’s strange, walking the school halls without the bustle of other students running and talking, almost like another world from the school he was used to. He wants to talk, to quell the empty silence and bring them back to the world he knows, but every time he glances at Jinyoung’s profile to try he finds himself lost for words.

Jinyoung’s classroom turns out to be in the science block. Daehwi expects him to go straight in, but they end up hesitating, the silence between them still palpable. Finally, Jinyoung mutters a thank you and looks up at him with a small smile before slipping away.

At that moment, Daehwi vows to himself that from now on he’ll make more of an effort to talk to Jinyoung, both here and at the house.

 

* * *

 

Jihoon frowns at the door in front of him. It’s a door he’s been through many times before. He’s used to the rhythm of the room inside, of where to move and what to do and what to expect. At least, he was used to it once, now, something has changed. The change being a boy called Park Woojin.

That’s what he is, a change, something unexpected and not yet understood. Jihoon isn’t a big fan of change, and he’s definitely not a fan of not understanding what’s going on around him.

He pushes the door open.

There’s no other way to understand something than to study it.

The training room, as they commonly refer to it, though other names had come and gone, was ' _nothing special '_.  The first time he heard it called 'nothing special' he was a little confused. Most people would have bragged about a place like this. He hadn’t shown his confusion at the time and therefore got no further explanation. Soon enough, he figured out it isn’t that Jisung is too used to luxury to see just how good he has it, but that he has no desire to brag about how good he has it even though he is well aware.

Jihoon is willing to brag for him. The room is huge, possibly the biggest room in the house, and that’s saying something. Exercise equipment spans one wall: punching bags and treadmills and weights. The middle of the room is left empty, a space big enough for them to spar or attempt to use their powers—hopefully without bringing harm to anyone else. On the opposite wall, there’s plush sofas and bean bags as well as a table laid out with bottled water and light snacks for when they need to cool down.

He’s the first one there, as he always likes to be. He sits on the floor and does some basic stretches, enjoying the space he has to think here. It isn’t long until he hears footsteps approaching the door, judging by the sound of them its Guanlin. Unsurprisingly, the tall boy walks through the door a moment later.

“Hey.” Guanlin smiles. He makes his way over to Jihoon and plops on the floor next to him. Jihoon scoots back a bit to avoid his sprawling limbs.

Jihoon cocks his head sideways, looking at Guanlin. He suddenly realises he has a plan, or at least part of one. He hasn’t had the chance to actually talk to anyone about Woojin yet, but Guanlin is a good start. Jihoon considers himself and Guanlin to be close, and Guanlin is the type of person to actually tell you what he knows instead of placate you with easy answers or question why you’re asking in the first place.

“So, what do you think of the new addition?” He asks. He knows Guanlin knows who he’s talking about. Woojin is the only person to move in here since Jihoon himself, and it isn’t as if they’ve adopted a puppy in the past few days.

“Woojin?” Guanlin thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “He seems cool. He’s kinda quiet, but weren’t we all the first few days?”

Jihoon wouldn’t know. He really can’t see some of them as the silent type, but he supposes moving into a new environment with new people could make even the loudest people silent. He talked to people his first few days there, but mostly he just...watched. Maybe that’s what Woojin’s doing too?

He lets Guanlin take over the conversation after that. He tries to listen but the cogs in the back of his mind are still whirring, trying to put everything together. He slotted each hypothesis into its respective folder in his mind. The largest folder by far is the one full of every bad outcome he can think of.

“So, what do you think?” Guanlin asks, pulling Jihoon back to the conversation.

“Can’t you just tell it to fix itself?” Jihoon asks. “You manipulate technology with your mind, what more would you need to do?”

“Yeah, that’s what I did. I fixed it and I’ll tell Minhyun that when I see him. The question is why he told me not to look at anything on his computer while I fix it.”

“...Porn? Probably porn,” Jihoon deadpans.

“I don’t know. Minhyun doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to watch porn.” Guanlin furrows his brow, clearly thinking deeply about Minhyun’s theoretical porn viewing habits.

“No one _seems_ like the kind of person to watch porn, that doesn’t change the fact most people do it,” Jihoon says wisely.

“I guess you’re right.” Guanlin accepts.

Footsteps are approaching the door again. Guanlin doesn’t notice and Jihoon doesn’t say anything, but he smirks to himself. After a moment, Minhyun enters the room. When Guanlin looks up and sees who it is he breaks down in a fit of giggles. Jihoon knew he would do this, obviously reminded of the conversation they just had, but he can’t help but snicker at Guanlin’s predictable and immature reaction, or maybe he’s just not as mature as he likes to think he is and he’s laughing at the thought of the otherwise fairly straight-laced Minhyun watching porn too.

Minhyun, to his credit, barely raises an eyebrow at their strange behaviour and just heads to sit on one of the sofa’s and offer them bottles of water. Jihoon thinks Minhyun has accepted that kids are going to be weird, and decided to just do his best in spite of it. Minhyun was probably kind of weird too, when he was their age. Hell, he’s still pretty weird now when the situation calls for it.

It isn’t long until everyone starts to arrive, alone or in small groups. Woojin comes in with Jisung at his side. He's clearly nervous even with Jisung there to take the attention off of him. His shoulders are hunched and he takes a few small, sharp breaths through his nose before he finally acknowledges them all with a nod.

They do practice sessions like this at least once a week, but since this is the first time Woojin even set foot in this room Jisung takes the time to point out and go over everything with him while everyone else goes about their business.

Jihoon hates physical fighting. He only does it when he absolutely has to, and even then he’ll try to think of another way to solve it while he dodges punches. Still, those skills are something he has to know, so he accepts Seongwoo’s offer to spar with him. Seongwoo isn’t a big fan of fights either— he complains that they’re tiring and messy and 'what if I get hit in the face? I don’t have the money to insure, you know'. Because of this, he’s one of the few people Jihoon actually does spar with, because they are as bad and as miserable as each other.

Seongwoo is physically bigger and most probably stronger than him. But while they both may not care for fighting, Jihoon takes the training seriously whereas Seongwoo will laugh and joke as he tries to avoid Jihoon’s blows, rarely lashing out himself unless he finds a good and easy opportunity. Jihoon has a tally in his head of the results of every fight he’s ever had, including his spars with Seongwoo, not that Seongwoo knows that. Currently, Jihoon has defeated Seongwoo in five more matches than Seonwoo defeated him.

Today, he manages to make that six.

Seongwoo is lying on the mat set out on the ground, but while he’s sweaty he’s laughing and clearly not hurting too bad. No one here hurt each other, much, and never on purpose. Jihoon leaves Seongwoo to drag himself up when he’s ready and grabs a bottle of water for himself before he sits down to catch his breath.

From his seat on the sofa he can see the entire room. Woojin has finally been allowed to escape Jisung and train, or at least Jihoon presumes as much, he can’t really make out the blur on the treadmill, but that’s exactly what lets him know it’s Woojin. Jihoon has to admit that Park Woojin’s speed is more than impressive...and easily dangerous.

“Jihoon!” Jisung catches his attention and slides on to the sofa next to him. “I was thinking we should do some practice with your powers today. Are you up for that?”

Jihoon isn’t surprised, necessarily, but he can’t say he was expecting this either. Of course, the idea here is that they work on strengthening and controlling their powers, and that’s what he wants to, but that practice needs to be watched over and done only in the safest of conditions, especially when it’s him. At first, he fought back against not being able to do whatever he wanted with his powers. Learning how to use them was a big part of the reason he came here, and he felt betrayed when he was so limited from opportunities to learn compared to the others. He eventually understood, though; his powers aren’t the easiest to work with, for one thing.

“Yes, I’m ready,” Jihoon answers, a small smile slipping onto his face.

Jisung clears everyone else away until they’re huddling in a far corner of the room. If it was up to Jisung, they’d probably be out of the room entirely, far out of harm's way and unable to watch him, but apparently Jisung likes to collect the stubborn ones, and they insisted that their curiosity won out over their safety and they be allowed to stay from the very beginning.

Jisung thinks he hears Woojin’s voice whisper “What’s going on?” But whoever he’s whispering to just shushes him without even looking, too busy looking at Jihoon instead.

Jihoon stands in the middle of the room, and Jisung stands in front of him. Jihoon ignores everyone else and zeroes in on and himself and Jisung, though he never forgets that the others, especially Woojin, are right there.

“Okay Jihoon,” Jisung starts. He shows Jihoon a small rubber ball he’s retrieved from somewhere. “What’s the likelihood that when I bounce this ball, it will bounce exactly ten times, then land back in my hand?”

“100%” Jihoon says, knowing what to do.

“100% it is,” Jisung nods, then throws the ball to the floor.

Jihoon focuses on the ball from the moment it lands on the floor, willing himself to be right. He counts every bounce, knowing the rest of the room is doing the same. The actual force behind the throw is clearly running out by the fifth time it bounces, but it immediately picks up again and the bounces are even stronger. The tenth time it bounces it almost hits the ceiling, then lands in Jisung’s outstretched palm, stilling completely.

“Very good!” Jisung praises.

Jihoon nods in acknowledgment.

“Are you ready to try something a little harder?” Jisung asks.

Jihoon nods again.

“What’s the likelihood-” Jisung pauses and scans the room with his eyes before looking back to Jihoon with a smile. “- that this ball is in Woojin’s hand?”

Jihoon gulps. He hadn’t tried to use his power on anything that involved people in a while. But he knows he can do this. He answers “100%”

Jihoon closes his eyes, and opens them again when he hears a sharp gasp from across the room. Woojin is standing there, staring down at his closed fist. Slowly, he opens it, and a rubber ball rolls out and across the floor.

Jihoon is almost surprised by how relieved he is that it worked.

“What’s going on?” Woojin asks slowly, to no one in particular. “What can he do?”

Seongwoo grins from his place besides Woojin. “What he can do is manipulate probability. Jihoon can make anything happen, or not happen, no matter how impossible it is, just by deciding how likely it is.”

Woojin looks at Jihoon then. Their eyes lock, and Jihoon can’t quite pin down the look in Woojin’s dark pupils. Is he merely shocked? Most people would be. But there’s something almost evaluating there, like he’s trying to figure Jihoon out. Well, he can try all he wants.

“Okay, we’re just going to try one more thing,” Jisung says, forcing Jihoon to break eye contact with Woojin. He can still feel Woojin’s gaze on him though. “How likely is it that when Woojin throws the ball at the window, the window won’t break?”

Jihoon looks at the window Jisung’s referring to. It’s a small little thing, so high on the wall it may as well be on the ceiling. It only lets in the tiniest strip of light. If it did shatter it wouldn’t be a disaster, right? Jihoon still feels the tiny coil of anxiety in his gut though. Glass was sharp, dangerous, even if there was only a little bit of it.

“100%,” he says, forcing his voice to come out stronger than it feels.

Jisung gestures for Woojin to throw the ball, and this time, Jihoon is the one who can’t keep his eyes off the other boy.

He doesn’t see the ball hit the window, but he hears the thunderous shatter as glass starts to fall to the floor.

“Y'know, if he could control it.” Seongwoo laughs, continuing on from what he said earlier.

 Jisung dismisses them after that. Jihoon heads straight back to his room. He’s not in the mood to socialise right now.

He collapses on to his bed with a silent sigh. His mind is moving fast, thoughts and information curling together into a fog he can’t see through. It takes a lot of work to untangle it and start going through everything. The most obvious thing is that he still doesn’t have control of his powers, and he hates that, he hates not being in control of himself and what happens to him. His whole life he’s thought every last action through, making sure it was what would benefit him the most, with the least drawbacks. He took calculated risks only. But his powers? They’re a part of him, but he can’t control them like he can control everything else. Most of the time, they work, but when they don’t, it’s always the exact opposite of what he wants to happen that happens. That’s okay for a ball not bouncing ten times, it’s even okay for shattering a window, because no matter how dangerous glass is, Jihoon is worse. What if he tries to make it 100% probable that their enemy gets injured? 100% probable that no one around him would get hurt? 100% probable that none of them die? What would he do then, if it all went wrong?

Jihoon likes being powerful. The rush he feels when he makes what he want to happen happen, whether that’s with his powers or not, is one of the best feelings he’s ever experienced. But he doesn’t want to be dangerous.

He can choose not to do anything too dangerous. He’ll protect them from himself.

He thinks of Woojin’s dark eyes, looking at him with something that, for the first time in a long time, Jihoon couldn’t decipher.

He’ll protect them from everyone.

 

* * *

 

Woojin is tempted to retire to his room after their training...practice...whatever they call it, but Daehwi quickly vetoed that decision by grabbing Woojin by the arm and dragging him into his room instead.

Woojin hasn’t been inside anyone’s room but his own yet, and he can’t help but to explore Daehwi’s with his eyes. Woojin was told he can decorate what is now his room however he likes; Jisung is going to take him shopping the next time he has a day off work. (He hates how Jisung’s excited smile fell for a second when Woojin offhandedly mentioned he’s never decorated a room before, because he never had one of his own to decorate.).

That day hasn’t come yet though, so Woojin’s room is still white and bare. Daehwi’s room, though, Woojin has a hard time imagining it had once looked like his. The walls are a bright yellow, just muted enough to not hurt Woojin’s eyes. The bright yellow paint is interrupted by framed posters and photos of everyone he met since he arrived at this house, all looking so happy and carefree as they posed in restaurants or messed around at arcades and amusement parks. For some reason, he feels a sharp pang in his chest when he looks at them, a strange curl in his mind that tells him something in his life has been missing for so long. There are fairy lights strung along the ceiling, and another string pinned above Daehwi’s bed. The bedding itself is a pale blue, though it was a little hard to tell with all the throw pillows and stuffed animals scattered along the pillows. Next to Daehwi’s bed, on the side table, sits nothing but a single photo. It’s framed liked the others, but it’s the only one that isn’t on the wall. Woojin found his fingers tracing the frame without meaning to.

“Who are they?” Woojin asks, realising he doesn’t recognise the people in the photo and they’re a good bit too old to be Daehwi’s friends from school.

Daehwi pauses for a moment, and Woojin thinks maybe he’s not going to answer. When he does, Woojin thinks he never heard the other boy so emotional, not even when he’s so over excited and happy that it drips from his voice like sugary syrup.

“They were my parents.” Daehwi says, voice just above a whisper, arms wrapping around his middle.

“Were?” Woojin asks carefully. There’s something in the air now, something thicker than syrup and nowhere near as sweet.

“I mean, they’re still my parents. It’s just weird...talking about them like they’re still here.” Daehwi’s face is calm, but there’s a sadness just simmering behind the surface.

“They died?” Woojin knows what the answer is going to be. He wonders why he always lets his mouth run when he knows logically he should just be quiet.

“Well, I wouldn’t be here if i had a family, would I?” Daehwi looks at him with a rueful smile. He looks at Woojin with _understanding_.

The pang Woojin had been feeling in his heart lessens, the vague feeling of something missing feels a little smaller.

In that moment, the dark air between them disappears and Daehwi pulls him to sit on the bed with him. Everything is yellow and blue and covered in memories and Woojin thinks he should feel like an intruder in a place like this, but Daehwi’s so bright and friendly that he forgets all about that and just lets himself relax as the other boy talks.

Woojin struggles with what to say. Has he really forgotten how to talk about normal things in the six months he’d spent in the mansion? All that was talked about there was plans, orders, threats, and Woojin tried to stay away from all of it. As a result, he stayed mostly silent. Thankfully, Daehwi seems to be an expert at both normal conversation and not expecting the same back right away.

“So, how do you think you’re settling in?” Daehwi asks carefully.

Woojin pauses to think. He was still struggling not to feel like an intruder with every step he took in this house, but he thinks that might go away soon. He likes everyone here, and they like him...well, most of them do. He thinks of Jihoon, his steel-like focus on Woojin’s every move, his unreadable expression as he stares into Woojin’s eyes even as glass crashes around them. He doesn’t know what Jihoon feels, he knows he can’t call it ‘like’, but he hasn’t really done anything to indicate he truly dislikes Woojin either. Woojin has no idea what Jihoon might feel towards him if he’s honest, he just knows that whatever it is isn’t the same as what everyone else feels.

“Can I ask you a question?” Woojin is hesitant, but he manages to get the words out. He trusts Daehwi. The others may like him, but it’s Daehwi he’s bonded with the most, even if that’s only because of Daehwi’s relentless efforts to actually get close to Woojin, which he did by acting like they were already close and had been for a long time.

“Sure,” Daehwi says.

“What’s the deal with Jihoon?” Woojin wishes there was another way he could ask it, a nicer way, but those five words are the only thing that can sum up what it is he’s asking.

Daehwi sighs, but there’s a fond note to it that Woojin doesn’t understand. “You think he doesn’t like you, right?”

“Maybe,” Woojin says, unsure how to describe it any other way outside of the confines of his head.

“When he first came here, the way he acted towards all of us wasn’t that different to how he’s treating you know. Jihoon doesn’t trust people easily, but once he trusts you, you mean the world to him. Then, he’ll trust other people even less to protect you. Do you see what I’m saying?”

“He doesn’t trust me because he thinks I’m a threat to you guys?”

“It’s nothing personal, but yes.” Daehwi nods.

Woojin lets that sink in. He hasn’t expected any of them to trust him, not with where he came from and what happened to a man they clearly all adored there. But they _had._ They accepted him, they let him eat at their table and sleep in their home and they talk freely in front of him. He knows a lot of them are still holding him at arm's length, but he thinks maybe that’s because they think he’s somehow fragile rather than due to a lack of trust. Woojin wouldn’t consider himself fragile, but he doesn’t have the confidence to speak up about it.

The way Jihoon treats him, he thinks that he should feel nothing but detached apathy to the situation since it’s what he’s been expecting. It makes him feel _something_ though, and he isn’t sure what it is, it doesn’t feel entirely bad or good. It’s...different. Is different good or bad? He doesn’t think there’s a sure answer for that.

He lets Daehwi change the subject after that. Daehwi’s choice of conversation is, apparently, Jinyoung. Woojin mostly just listens. He can’t say he knows Jinyoung too well yet, certainly not well enough to talk about him to someone who can apparently go on and on about him. Not that Daehwi seems to know much about him either, he’s mostly talking about how he’d like to get know him.

“Just talk to him?” Woojin suggests.

“You make that sound a lot easier than it actually is,” Daehwi sighs.

Woojin can agree with that. He struggles to talk to anyone who doesn’t talk to him first. Trying to befriend Jinyoung would involve having to talk to him first, since Jinyoung doesn’t seem like the type to talk first unless it’s to ask someone to pass the salt. Left to his own devices, Woojin would probably never be able to befriend someone like Jinyoung. But Daehwi isn’t like Woojin, he had no problem talking to Woojin, he doesn’t have any problem teasing him or even initiating hugs and casual touches, and Woojin is pretty much just as shy as Jinyoung is. So what’s the problem?

He says as much to Daehwi, and Daehwi looks at him with something soft in his expression. “I think you’ll find that people are more like you than you think, especially here.”

Woojin doesn’t know how to take that. He isn’t sure that he even understands it. He lets Daehwi change the subject again and doesn’t say much until Jisung knocks and tells them it’s time for dinner.

 In his few days here, Woojin had been putting together his own breakfast and lunch (except the one time Sungwoon finally got the chance to make him that omelette. He was right, it was insanely good omelette.) For dinner, someone always brought home take-out. Woojin expected another plastic bag of takeout tonight, and that would have been just fine with him; it’s better than anything he got at the mansion, in fact, he is probably eating better than he has in his whole life. When he walks into the dining room though, he finds himself stopping in his tracks, struggling to process what he is seeing and matching it up with the reality he knows.

The table is absolutely laden with food. Woojin is surprised there’s enough room left for their plates. A lot of it looks like takeout, bowls of various types of curry, a steaming hot pizza, bowls of hot wings and fried chicken. But some of it looks like they made the effort to cook themselves. He isn’t expecting much of their cooking, other than Sungwoon’s omelette skills he figured their cooking abilities to resemble whatever Jaehwan and Minhyun attempted last night. The dishes on the table don’t look perfect, but they do look more than edible. There’s bowls of noodles and stews that he recognises as distinctly Korean, as well as dishes of meat that, while a little seared on the edges, look delicious.

“What is all this?” Woojin asks, not leaving his position in the doorway.

“It’s your welcoming party.” Jisung says, getting up from his seat and slowly walking over to Woojin.

Once Jisung is in front of him, Jisung starts to talk again, quieter. What he’s saying is clearly just for Woojin. “I know it’s not really much, but I didn’t think you’d want something too big. Do you like it?”

Woojin’s voice chokes in his throat. There’s tears pooling in the corner of his eyes and he frantically tries to blink them away. Once he thinks he can talk again, he finally answers, even quieter than Jisung had been

“I-I….thank you.”

It doesn’t feel like enough. Nothing he says will be enough. The glint of tears in Jisung’s own eyes say he understands just what and just how much Woojin is trying to convey.

“Come sit down.” Jisung says softly.

Woojin’s feet finally remember how to move and he follows Jisung to take a seat at the dining table. Everyone is here, even those who don’t actually live in this house. Seongwoo, Jaehwan, and Jinyoung all were here for practice, but Woojin hasn’t been sure they’d stick around. They have their own houses, their own dinners to eat, why hang out here so much?

As Woojin eats his food and watches the table, it hits him. He watches as Jaehwan’s now familiar laugh echoes through the room when Seongwoo says something funny. He watches as Daehwi shyly offers Jinyoung a bite of the steak on his plate. He watches as Jihoon, someone he’s never seen so comfortable when Woojin’s around, teases Guanlin with some inside joke that makes the younger boy slap him lightly on the arm. As he watches, it hits him.They may have their own houses to go back to, but they don’t have their own homes. Wherever it is they normally sleep, they don’t have family there, or if they do, it’s not one they feel a connection to like the connection they feel to each other.

This is _a home_. This is _a family_.

The dark feeling that he’s intruding somewhere he doesn’t belong starts to creep in again and he leans back in his chair, trying to put some distance between himself and the family in front of him. He doesn’t want to get in the way of something established like this, something that was made without him and would continue without him. He starts to wonder how long he should really stay. It wouldn’t be hard to run, in fact, it would be all too easy. He could run out the door now and by the time they noticed the empty seat he would be streets away.

These thoughts are all he can think about. The rest of the world is tuned out, background noise only adding to the cacophony of darkness and anxiety in his mind. That’s why he jumps when he feels someone gently clasp his shoulder.

“Hey, you in there?” Jisung laughs, waving a hand in front of Woojin’s face, something he’d probably been doing as he tried to get Woojin’s attention.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I kinda zoned out there.” Woojin huffs a laugh and hopes it sounds light-hearted (he knows it doesn’t.)

“I was just asking if you wanted the last piece of chicken?” Jisung holds the proffered chicken up.

“Uh…” Woojin doesn’t know what to say.

“Here,” Jisung smiles, then feeds Woojin.

“Good?” Jisung asks when Woojin is done eating.

“Uh...yeah, yeah-” He looks at Jisung’s bright smile, hears the rest of the house talking lightly around him, thinks of being offered the last piece of chicken when logically it should have been given to anyone but him.

That’s when he has his second realisation of the night.

He’s not intruding, not really, because Jisung invited him here with open arms. They all did everything they could to make sure he was comfortable, even if it was a little too much at times. He played video games with Sungwoon and Daniel on the sofa for hours a few days ago. He laughs at jokes that Seongwoo still bothers to say even when no one but Woojin is around to hear them. Minhyun’s original wariness towards him quickly disappeared, and instead the older makes him cups of tea on nights neither of them seem able to sleep. He sits with Guanlin in the mornings and laughs as Daehwi and Jinyoung have to leave for school, even though Jisung frowned at them for not going back to school themselves the first few days. Jaehwan sings along to the radio with him and doesn’t complain about Woojin’s relative lack of skills compared to Jaehwan’s powerful range and captivating tone. Jinyoung would smile at him as they pass each other in the kitchen and slip extra sugar to Woojin before he even mentioned that he hates his coffee bitter or his cereal plain. Daehwi talks to him like they were best friends since before they had learned to walk and shared his chocolate even when Woojin pretended he didn’t want any. Then there is Jihoon. Jihoon may not like him, maybe, but Woojin can’t deny that he feels some kind of magnetic pull to the other boy whenever they lock eyes. Whatever is between them is complex and tainted by their pasts, but it is something different to anything that Woojin has ever felt before and he couldn’t say he hates it.

What Woojin realises, as he remembers each of these little moments is that, yes, this is a family, but maybe, just maybe, he can be part of this family too, if he just lets himself.

Jisung is still looking at him, even though Woojin trailed off a long time ago now. Slowly, he matches Jisung’s smile with his own. It’s small, and nervous, but it’s real. Jisung beams before turning away and pestering Jaehwan to pass him some rice.

Woojin looks at them all again, and he thinks of the word _“family”_ , but he doesn’t feel like an intruder anymore. Slowly, that feeling of something missing that he had all day, that he maybe had all his life, starts to disappear.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning that this chapter contains a scene of underage recreational drinking. The characters are 16/17 in it. They don't get too obviously drunk and nothing bad/dangerous happens.
> 
> Also! It's Woojin's birthday in a couple of hours!! I hope you all enjoy this cause for international celebration!

Daniel stretches and rubs the sleep away from his eyes. The morning sun is streaming through the window, dappling on the bare arm and shoulder of the still-sleeping man in bed next to him. Daniel finds himself smiling as he reaches over to run his fingers over his boyfriend's skin. After a few moments of Daniel tracing patterns around the spots of light, Seongwoo starts to stir and eventually he opens his eyes just enough to squint at Daniel.

“What are you doing?” Seongwoo asks, voice rough with sleep and annoyance at being awake.

“Admiring you,” Daniel shrugs, trying to pretend he doesn’t realise how cheesy that sounds.

“That sounds kinda gay,” Seongwoo mutters.

“You’re kinda gay,” Daniel laughs.

“You got me there,” Seongwoo shrugs, finally opening his eyes properly and looking at Daniel.

Daniel doesn’t have a job, never has. Seongwoo does, but he works at a bar so he’s rarely called in during the daytime. That means they get to spend a lot of lazy mornings together, snuggling under the covers on days when it’s cold or basking in the sun on warmer mornings. It’s a comforting routine in their lives that can otherwise be unexpected and hectic sometimes.

He doesn’t know how long they lie there being lazy, but eventually the serene atmosphere is broken by the sounds of the morning rush reaching them upstairs and they silently agree that it’s time to get up and go back to the real world.

Daniel pulls himself out of bed to the background noise of Daehwi complaining about Jihoon eating the last of his favourite cereal. From what Daniel can make out he’s threatening to protect it in a forcefield from then on. Jihoon tells Daehwi that if he does that he’ll just make it so that the cereal is in his hand anyway because “I can do that, Daehwi. Did you forget?” (It seems they both forgot that they’re not quite ready to use their powers so casually yet. Daniel hopes Jihoon doesn’t destroy the world over a bowl of cookie crisp.)

Daniel takes a quick shower and combs through his brown hair in the mirror. He wonders if he should change it. He hasn’t dyed it anything other than brown in a couple of years now, though it’s something he used to do a lot. He decides he’ll think more about that later and lazily styles it for now, something he doesn’t do that often these days either. He heads back to his bedroom and lets Seongwoo into the bathroom so he can take a shower too. Daniel gets dressed and sits back on the bed, picking up his phone.

He looks through his messages and social media notifications but it doesn’t take more than a few seconds. All his friends live in the same house as him, or are there often enough that they may as well, they don’t have to text him when they can just yell up the stairs. He and his parents barely talk, so he doesn’t have to worry about anything from them other than an occasional phone call where it’s clear that the people on both sides of the phone are only doing it because they consider it obligatory since they’re biologically related. They called a couple of months ago, so he he probably doesn’t have to deal with that again any time soon.

Seongwoo comes out of the bathroom, hair still wet, with nothing but a towel around his waist. Daniel is immediately distracted from both his phone and his thoughts.

He’s seen Seongwoo’s bare chest god knows how many times by now, but there’s something about Seongwoo that’s just attention grabbing, no matter how well you know him. He’s beautiful, Daniel has thought this god knows how many times before, but he doubts he’ll ever stop.

Seongwoo smirks at him playfully, knowing he’s got Daniel’s attention.

Daniel throws a shirt at him.

“Did you want to do anything today? I don’t have work tonight,” Seongwoo says once he’s finally dressed.

Daniel thinks on it for a moment, and then says “We should invite Jaehwan out to do something.”

“Yeah?” Seongwoo asks, without comment or question in his voice.

“Yeah, he hasn’t been around since we had that welcoming dinner for Woojin. That was like a week ago now.” Daniel doesn’t point out how unusual that is, he knows Seongwoo will know.

Jaehwan, as much as he complains about having to leave his apartment, is usually over everyday. Daniel doesn’t like that he hasn’t seen his friend in so long. He’s not worried exactly, Jaehwan is a grown man who doesn’t need them to look after him. It’s not completely unheard of him to not come around for a few days, sometimes he gets caught up working on a song or just needs some time to himself. Though when that’s the case, he usually texts someone to complain and let them know he’s okay. So he’s not feeling worried, exactly, he’s just feeling….something. He could probably ask Seongwoo to tell him how he feels. Seongwoo’s  powers let him know the emotions of those around him instinctively so he knows how to manipulate those emotions if it comes down to it. But Daniel doesn’t think he needs to know how he feels in detail. He wants to see Jaehwan, that’s all that matters really matters to him.

“You’re right. Do you want me to text him?” Seongwoo asks.

“I’ll do it in a minute. First we should figure out where to take him.”

“It’s gonna be lunchtime soon. We could just start with lunch and go from there?” Seongwoo suggests. “If we go to Pecunia then you know how much there is to do around there. Also, I’m really craving one of their burgers.”

Pecunia was a restaurant housed above a hotel that was not far from Seongwoo’s workplace, which in turn was not far from the house. Well, it was still in their area of the city, at least. Seongwoo had taken Daniel there a few times before, but he doubts Jaehwan has ever been. It’s as good as any other place Daniel can think of, so he agrees.

**Daniel:  
** **Hey! you busy today? Me and Seongwoo were wondering if you wanted to meet up? :D**

There’s no reply for a few minutes so Daniel decides to send another text.

**Daniel:  
** **We were thinking lunch? Then maybe something after if you’re up for it? No pressure, we just wanna see you.**

It’s a few more minutes until he gets a response.

**Jaehwan:  
** **I’m free, I guess. Where did you guys wanna go?**

Daniel grins and texts Jaehwan to say they’ll pick him up from his place in twenty minutes.

“I’m looking forward to this,” He tells Seongwoo.

Seongwoo smiles and wraps his arms around Daniel from behind. “I know.”

Daniel laughs. Of course Seongwoo knows.

 

They haven’t been to Jaehwan’s apartment many times, and they’ve never been inside. Jisung’s house is just the easiest place for them all to hang out, it has the most space and most of them already live there. So that’s where they spend most of their time. Daniel thinks the only person whose place he’s actually been in is Seongwoo’s, and even that isn’t a common occurrence.

They still find Jaehwan’s place easily enough though, with a little help from sat-nav and a couple of wrong turns Seongwoo will claim were just him taking the scenic route. When they finally pull up outside of Jaehwan’s modest apartment building located on a busy street Daniel sends him another text to let him know they’re there.

Jaehwan comes running out his building, hair a little mussed and still pulling his jacket on. When he approaches the car he opens the door to the passenger seat, the one Daniel is sat in, instead of the door to the back and says “I call shotgun.”

“I’m already sat here?” Daniel points out, confused.

“And _you_ gave me twenty minutes to get ready when i hadn't even showered yet. I call shotgun.” Jaehwan says bluntly.

Daniel looks to Seongwoo for help.

“He called shotgun.” Seongwoo shrugs as if there’s nothing he can do about it.

“Baaaaaaabeeeeeee,” Daniel whines.

“Baaaaaaabeeeeee,” Seongwoo and Jaehwan both mock, then reach over Daniel to high-five at how in-sync and evil they are.

Daniel pouts as he gets out and moves to the backseat, but he’s smiling again as soon as he’s out of their direct line of sight. He feels a lot better now that he’s seen Jaehwan and he at least seems like his usual self.

The drive to the restaurant is filled with conversation. They don’t ask why Jaehwan hasn’t been around lately, but they do fill him in on anything interesting that’s happened in the past week. They don’t really have much to tell other than a couple of funny stories and general updates. It’s been quiet around the house lately, as far as they’re aware. Jaehwan doesn’t mention anything about what he’s been up to the past week, but he listens to their stories and makes comments and laughs, and for now it’s enough.

Pecunia is located on the very top floor of a tall building. It’s not a part of the hotel beneath it, technically, but it’s proximity makes it a popular spot for guests, clearly whoever owns the restaurant and whoever owns the hotel are both fine with this arrangement. Seongwoo asks for a seat on the balcony, where they can look over the whole city and enjoy the weather while they eat. They’re seated and handed menus surprisingly quickly.

“This place looks expensive,” Jaehwan says pointedly.

Daniel and Seongwoo’s eyes meet over their menus. Seongwoo has a question in his eyes, and Daniel shrugs regretfully. This place could certainly be considered expensive to some, he realises, though he’d been too caught up in planning to think of it earlier.

“You’re paying, right?” Jaehwan asks, eyes glittering.

Seongwoo quickly agrees, and then the issue is over. Daniel lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He’s not as good at navigating the discrepancies in money that their group has as Jisung is, and Seongwoo is even worse, but neither of them want to accidently cause offence over it.

“Good afternoon. My name is Justin, I’ll be your server today,” Their waiter looks very young, and kind of like he’s planning how to burn the entire restaurant down behind his polite smile and chipper customer service voice.

“I’ll take the golden pancakes and a glass of orange juice,” Daniel tells him.

Seongwoo orders his usual, and then it’s Jaehwan’s turn.

“Rich people eat weird shit,” He mutters, not quite under his breath.

“Can I recommend the fontina and asparagus omelette?” Justin cuts in.

“Is it good?” Jaehwan asks.

Justin looks like he wants to roll his eyes and say _“No, It’s gross as hell, that’s why i’m recommending it.”_ what he actually says is “My father’s the owner. He’s been making this since I was a child and taught all his chef’s the recipe. It’s wonderful.”

“Okay, sounds good,” Jaehwan answers, shrugging.

“And to drink?” Justin asks.

“Uh-” Jaehwan starts. He looks like he’s thinking about whether or not it’s a socially acceptable time of day to order their strongest bottle of alcohol. “Coffee.”

When their food comes, Daniel finds himself watching Jaehwan. Not for long, just long enough to be sure he doesn’t totally hate the food that Justin recommended to him before going back to his own. He can feel Seongwoo looking at him as he digs through the layers of chocolate, hazelnut, and syrup to make sure he actually gets some pancake on his fork too. He can’t tell what look Seongwoo is actually giving him before he moves his eyes away again. Oh well, whatever it was it probably wasn’t important. Maybe he’s just managed to get chocolate on his face already.

“So, what do you want to do now?” Seongwoo asks Jaehwan after they finished eating.

“Well, I thought I’d just go home,” Jaehwan says, like that was the only option.

“Aw, c’mon, is our company that bad?” Seongwoo laughs.

“It’s hell on earth,” Jaehwan says dryly, and then “I don’t know...maybe we could just walk around for a bit?”

They spend the next few hours dipping in and out of stores, window shopping. Most of the shops around here are high-end boutiques and they try on clothes they’d never wear, laughing at each other as they make up characters for whatever ridiculous outfit they put on. There’s a video game store and they try out new game demos, getting too competitive considering they couldn’t finish any of the games even if they want to. They look at cheap souvenirs and drift in and out of music stores, until the sun is setting even though it feels like almost no time has passed.

They walk idly with the sunset in the background. They don’t have anywhere to be, but Daniel thinks maybe any of them don’t want to go home yet either. It’s nice, walking together like this, it feels normal in a way Daniel isn’t sure he gets to feel often, but entirely new in how normal it is. Daniel loves his friends, and their life, he really does. But sometimes it all gets a bit much, the superpowers and the amount of people and all the problems they carry, himself included. Sometimes, he likes to take a moment out and pretend that he’s, well, normal.

The moment can’t last forever, though. At some point, they have to go back to their normality and not everyone else's. It’s Jaehwan who breaks it, in the end.

“I should get going. There’s a frozen pizza waiting for me to put it in the oven.” He says.

“If you’re hungry, we could go to a restaurant?” Seongwoo suggests. Daniel is glad he’s not the only one who, for whatever reason, doesn’t want this moment to end.

“I think I’ve eaten all the fancy food my stomach can handle for the year. Not all of us grew up on a diet of lobster and gold dust.” He says it lightly, but there’s something heavier behind it Daniel can’t pinpoint. Maybe he’s just imagining it.

He turns away then, waving goodbye as he does. Daniel isn’t sure how to call him back, isn’t sure how to tell him that even though he’s pretty sure Jaehwan was only joking they can eat where he wants, isn’t sure how to bring the moment back when he doesn’t even know how it became a _moment_ in the first place, isn’t sure how to ask why Jaehwan hasn’t been around in the first place even though it’s still bugging him.

Maybe Daniel just isn’t good with things like this, he thinks to himself. He can have moments, but nothing more. Outside of small moments, he doesn’t think any of them really know how to do normality anymore. They have their own normal, in a bubble away from the rest of the world which doesn’t even know they aren’t normal. Soon enough, today and how different it was would start to get too much for them all, maybe for Jaehwan it already had.

Jaehwan turns to look at him from under a street light, the bright light illuminating him, like he’s the only thing in the entire world. There’s a halo around his head, and he smiles before shouting to them that he had fun today. It feels like a different kind of moment.

Then he’s gone, but Daniel finds himself still staring at the spot that he’d vacated. It’s not until Seongwoo shakes his shoulder and asks if he’s ready to go home now that Daniel looks away. He smiles, because the warmth of Seongwoo’s hand and the quirk of his lips may not feel like a moment anymore but are one of the best parts of their version of normal, they feel like home, and suddenly Daniel is glad that it’s time for them to go back.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go,” Daniel says.

 

* * *

 

 

Guanlin hopes what he’s doing is the right thing. He hopes that a lot, but especially now. Maybe he should have thought about this a week ago, when he started this, but in his defence he hadn’t really meant to start it at all. That was the problem when you could communicate with machines so intuitively that they know what you’re thinking, even when you don’t necessarily want them to. Once the machine knows what you want, it will try to provide that for you.

It started about a week ago, when Minhyun asked him to fix his computer. The computer was loading things slowly, a simple enough problem. He just had to ask it to go into the software, find the problem, and resolve it. But sometimes, things slip through. He’s a curious person, he can’t deny that, so when Minhyun told him not to look at anything on the computer, of course he wondered what exactly it was he wasn’t supposed to be looking at while his hand was laid firmly on the modem. All he caught was a date, one from late last year that didn’t hold any meaning to him. It wasn’t a holiday, or even a birthday, if it meant something to Minhyun then he had no clue what that thing was. He quickly forced himself to shove his questions away and make the computer get back on track to fixing itself, but his curiosity only grew.

First, he asked Jihoon. He trusts Jihoon almost as much as he trusts Jihoon to know nearly everything about the people they live with. He didn’t mention the date that had been flashed into his mind, he just tried to casually ask what Minhyun could possibly be hiding. Jihoon had nothing to offer except a comment about porn, and Guanlin laughed at the possibility, but it wasn’t helpful.

Eventually, before he could tell himself to stop, he googled it. That’s where it was from, he’s pretty sure, Minhyun’s internet history. He finds results for events, announcements for births, all sorts of things really, but nothing that leads him back to Minhyun.

He does find one thing that is pretty interesting, though. It isn’t from the date he was searching for, exactly, but rather a few months before. He isn’t sure if it connected back to Minhyun, isn’t sure he is on the right track at all, but it feels like something they should all know.

He’s going to tell Minhyun. That’s the plan, at least, but he finds himself unable to move from his spot at his desk. Telling Minhyun would mean explaining that, despite being asked not to, he not only looked at what he wasn’t supposed to, but he took it into his own hands to find out more. The first time was an accident, he was sure Minhyun would understand that, but the rest wasn’t.

He’s warring with himself, urging himself to move even though another part of him insists on being still and forgetting what he’s done, when there’s a tentative knock at his bedroom door. He minimises the page in front of him on his laptop before inviting whoever it is inside.

“Uh, we’re painting my room and Jisung asked me to come ask if you could help paint the high up parts,” Woojin says, still hovering close to the door.

“Yeah, just give me a second,” Guanlin says, eyes flickering back to his laptop.

“Woojin,” Guanlin starts, not sure if he should ask but wanting a second opinion because if he doesn’t get one he’ll probably never get anywhere with this. “If you did something….bad, but possibly good too, would you tell people what you did?”

“What’s this about?” Woojin asks, hesitant.

“Minhyun. He...asked me not to do something, but I did it anyway. I think it might help him though.”

“Help him how?”

“Sometimes...he looks like he’s lost something.” Guanlin says carefully, because this is only his observations and also not his business. “I know that look.”

“Have you lost something?” Woojin is quieter now, perhaps not sure that he should be asking, but Guanlin doesn’t mind.

“It was a long time ago now. I’m over it. It was my own fault anyway….I...I wasn’t a good person.” Guanlin’s lips pull tighter, remembering how he got to where he is now.

 

 

_They were screaming again. A long time ago, Guanlin would panic, hide away in his room with headphones on and his knees drawn up to his chest. Back then, he didn’t understand why his parents fought all the time. He had wondered if this meant they didn’t love each other, if they didn’t love him, if they’d get a divorce and he’d have to pick a side. Now that he was older he realised that those first two things were probably true, a divorce was probably for the better, and when it came to his family he was on no one's side but his own._

_Most of the time they were fighting over money, or the lack of it, as if fighting over it would somehow make it appear and take them away from the tiny apartment his parents hated so much. The logical answer was that one or both of them got a job, but that wasn’t as easy as screaming over it, so of course it didn’t happen._

_He didn’t have to listen to this, he decided, when the resounding crash of plates being hurled in anger hit his ears. He got up and pulled a jacket on before quickly running down the stairs and out the door. Not that his parents would have tried to stop him from leaving, if they’d even notice._

_It was evening now, and the middle of winter. He pulled his thin jacket closer around himself, but he spent enough time avoiding his house that he was used to having to bear the weather. He walked a few blocks, not that you could tell looking at the buildings, they were all identical in this area, right down to the peeling, dirtied paint._

_He found the building he was looking for without having to think about it and rang the buzzer for the ground floor apartment._

_“Guanlin!” Seonho greeted him with a smile when he opened the door._

_“Hey, Seonho,” Guanlin said weakly._

_Seonho’s smile dimmed immediately. “Are your parents fighting again?”_

_“When are they not?” Guanlin rolled his eyes. He was resigned to his family’s situation now, that didn’t stop Seonho pulling him into a warm hug anyway. Guanlin wouldn’t say he needed it, but if he was long past fighting against his friends affectionate nature and maybe a little appreciative of it, then that was okay._

_“Mom!” Seonho shouted into the apartment behind him. “Can I go out for a while?”_

_Seonho’s mom appeared in the hallway, an apron around her waist and silky black hair tied up in a bun. “Dinner's almost done, Seonho, can’t you wait a little while?”_

_“I’ll eat when I’m out, it’ll be fine. Pleaaase.” If Seonho had one talent, it was his puppy dog expression that could convince anyone to let him do as he pleased, because how could you say no to that face? It even worked on Guanlin himself, even though he knew that Seonho knew exactly what he was doing._

_“Fine,” Seonho’s mom shook her head fondly. Guanlin would have liked to think he was long past being amazed and confused at the juxtaposition between Seonho’s relationship with his family and his own, but it still caught him off-guard sometimes. “Wrap up warm and don’t stay out too late, promise?”_

_“I promise.” Seonho grabbed  his most padded coat off the hook. If he broke the second part of the promise, as he often ended up doing, then at least he tried._

_“Goodbye, mom!” Seonho said. He didn’t manage to get away before his mom wrapped him in a hug and kissed his forehead though. “Mom! You’re embarrassing me!” Seonho whined, but it was a  half-hearted complaint after Guanlin witnessed this exact exchange many times before._

_“Be careful. I know I say this every time you and Guanlin go out late but it’s not the safest area around here. I love you, little chick.” His mom said._

_“Love you too,” Seonho grumbled, but it was filled with an affection that Guanlin couldn't imagine had ever been in his own voice when he talked to his mother._

_There was nothing to do in a neighbourhood like this, they’d long learned. Every evening they’d done this, which was more evenings than Guanlin could think to count, they just wandered around. They talked, they sat on curbs or walls or, when it was late enough that they wouldn’t be bothered by little kids, in the local park._

_That’s where they’d ended up tonight, sitting on the swings. Guanlin could remember swinging on these, when he was younger, giggling as he tried to fly over the top and swing straight around. He wondered if he was really supposed to feel too old for that, but he did. He could swing, if he wanted to, but he couldn’t imagine feeling that innocent and free again._

_“I’m hungry.” Seonho complained. Guanlin remembered that Seonho told his mom he would eat while they were out. They didn’t have the money to buy food, they both knew that, Seonho’s mom probably knew that too. But they had ways of getting it._

_They walked to the closest ATM. Guanlin kept his hood up and Seonho tried to watch out behind them for anyone in the area, but he kept getting distracted and looking towards Guanlin instead._

_“Do the thing!” Seonho said excitedly._

_Guanlin gave him a pointed look to tell him to be quiet before pressing his hand to the surface of the ATM, thinking about how he wanted it to give him money_

_The first time he’d done this was just a few months ago. His mom had dragged him to the store with her for reasons he couldn't remember now, he just remembered waiting outside and mindlessly running fingers across the ATM there. He’d thought about what his mom might be buying there, if she’d actually get them food or if most of their money would end up going into alcohol again. He remembered thinking, not for the first time, that he couldn’t wait until he didn’t have to rely on his parents anymore and he’d have money of his own. A second later, $20 had popped out of the slot. He’d pocketed it thinking it was a very strange case of dumb luck that the machine was apparently malfunctioning._

_Eventually, he realised that machines shouldn’t malfunction anywhere as often as they had been, and that whatever was happening, it was somehow his fault. He’d wanted to know what the hell was going on, obviously, but he didn’t have anyone to tell except Seonho, and the other boy was as clueless as he was. He decided not to question it too much, what idiot would question free money instead of just taking it?_

_He took the $20 bill from the machine in front of him and held it up in front of Seonho. He could probably try for more money, he wasn’t sure it would work but he didn’t see why it wouldn’t either. But $20 was a good amount, a safe amount that people wouldn’t question him having on his person as long as he didn’t let the same people know about it too often._

_Guanlin spent half the money in a convenience store, buying him and Seonho soda and snacks that they hauled back to the park and ate sat cross-legged on the rusty merry-go-round. The rest, he’d save. He always saved whatever he had leftover, he never knew when this luck, or whatever it was, might run out._

_“You can come over any time, you know,” Seonho said suddenly, dusting the sugar from the doughnut he’d just eaten off his hands. “I know your parents fight more often than you tell me.”_

_Guanlin shook his head. “I can deal with their fights, Seonho.”_

_“I know you can. You’re strong like that,” Seonho said, as if Guanlin’s strength was a fact of the universe. “But you shouldn’t have to.”_

_“I can’t always bother you just because they’re fighting. Your parents would probably end up getting mad at me for tearing you away from home all the time.”_

_Seonho frowned for a minute, tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth, then suddenly  he looked up at Guanlin with a bright smile. “Well, one day, when we’re big enough to get our own place, we’ll just have to live together. That way, you can bother me all the time and no one can complain ever. Deal?”_

_“Deal.” Guanlin said._

_“You’ll have to pinky-promise on it.” Seonho holds his pinky out._

_Guanlin linked his pinky with Seonho’s._

_“I promise.”_

 

 

“So you stole some money? That’s what makes you think you’re a bad person?” Woojin asks, pulling Guanlin out of his thoughts.

He wonders how much of that he’d said out loud.

“It’s a longer story than that. Now’s not the time,” Guanlin says. He’s accepted that he won’t see Seonho again any time soon, it doesn’t hurt more than a nostalgic tug anymore, but he’s still struggling to not feel bad over the person was back th en. He knows he made a lot of mistakes, knows it won’t help to focus on them and instead he should focus on being better in the future, but then he’ll do things, like snoop into someone’s business even though he was specifically asked not to, and it makes him wonder if he can really ever be better. Everyone else already knows about all of this, to some degree, but he doesn’t want to tell Woojin about it yet. He just got out of a place filled with bad people, he doesn’t need to think that he’s just fell into another one.

“Okay. But if you ever wanna talk about it, I’m here.” Woojin thinks for a second, then starts speaking again, slowly, unsure. “Daehwi told me that there’s more people like me than I think. I didn’t get it then, but I think I do now. There’s more people like you than you think too.”

“Like who?” He’s not sure where Woojin is going with this.

“Maybe...like me? In some ways, at least.” Woojin says.

“I thought you didn’t do anything bad? While you were there?” Guanlin asks, suddenly feeling unsure too.

“I didn’t, not there, not like they did. That doesn’t mean I’ve never done anything bad.” Woojin was shy the first few days, is still kind of shy now, even if he seems to be a lot more comfortable. He’s shy, but Guanlin doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look so introverted, so _small_ . For a brief moment, Guanlin remembers how young Woojin is, how young _he_ is.

“A long story?” Guanlin asks, a note of humour in his voice.

Woojin huffs a laugh. “Yeah, now’s not the time.”

Guanlin knows that neither of them are avoiding telling each other their story. Rather, they know it can wait, because for their foreseeable future they’re together.

“Come on, let’s go paint.” Guanlin says softly.

Woojin smiles, and he looks like himself again, but maybe a bit softer, a bit less closed off. It’s nice.

They walk to Woojin’s room, where they know everyone else is waiting for them,  in comfortable silence with smiles on their faces. For just a little while, they’re leaving their pasts behind them in that room, and, at least for now, Guanlin is leaving behind what he found out when looking into Minhyun’s past.

 

* * *

 

“Jaehwan, you can’t just make random lines with the roller and hope it works. You’ve gotta cover the wall a bit at time.” Jinyoung hears Jisung chide for what feels like the tenth time.

They’re all crammed into Woojin’s room, though it doesn’t actually feel crammed since there’s plenty of space, especially with all the furniture gone.

Half the paint has been spilled onto plastic laid out on the floor already, but the walls are quickly getting covered with so many people working on them.

“It’s still gonna get painted, Jisung.” Jaehwan says from where he’s still randomly smearing paint on one wall.

“Just do as he says, Jaehwan. He’ll never stop complaining otherwise.” Seongwoo says, teasing both of them.

“Then he can keep complaining. He can’t break me, I’m like a stone.” Jaehwan says firmly.

“Oh, can nothing annoy you since you’re the most annoying person on earth?”

“I’m the most annoying person on earth?” Jaehwan stops attempting to paint, turning to Seongwoo instead. “You, Ong Seongwoo, are calling me the most annoying person on earth? Have you met yourself?”

“Yes, and it was the best meeting of my life,” Seongwoo replies without any shame.

Jaehwan takes his roller and runs it along Seongwoo’s cheek, leaving half his face covered in white paint.

Seongwoo is still with disbelief for a moment, then, he screeches, loud and painful. “Oh, you’re dead Kim Jaehwan.”

Jinyoung watches as Jaehwan sets off into a run and Seongwoo chases after him. There’s not much space to run freely with so many people in the room, getting in the way. Seongwoo catches Jaehwan quickly and tackles him to the floor before attacking him with his paintbrush.

“Daniel, isn’t Jaehwan way more annoying than I am?” Seongwoo calls from where he’s straddling Jaehwan.

“Come on Daniel, you don’t have to agree with him just because he’s your boyfriend! Be objective! Let the truth be known!” Jaehwan screams desperately.

“You’re both as annoying as each other,” Daniel says, laughing at their antics.

Seongwoo and Jaehwan pause, look at each other and come to a silent agreement, forgetting about their fight to team up and attack Daniel.

“I was going to say that’s because neither of you are annoying!” Daniel complains to no avail.

After that it descends into chaos. Somehow everyone is involved now, running around and yelling and covered in paint. Jinyoung laughs as he defends himself from any potential attackers with his roller. Maybe the room isn’t going to get painted fast after all.

Daehwi appears before him, holding his hands up in a clear sign of surrender.

“Promise you're not going to attack me?” Jinyoung asks warily.

“I’ve left my weapons behind. I come in peace, I promise.” Daehwi laughs. “Promise you’re not going to attack me?”

“You’re surrendering. I can’t attack you now, that’s just bad manners,” Jinyoung says, placing his roller on the tarp covering the floor.

Daehwi leads them both over to a corner that’s safe from both paint and hopefully their friends and they sit down, both catching their breath a little from the impromptu paint fight that’s starting to die down around them.

Woojin wanders over and sits next to them after a moment, paint in his hair and on his nose. Daehwi pulls Woojin closer until Woojin’s head is resting in his lap and leans his own head on Jinyoung’s shoulder. Jinyoung’s not really used to being physically close to his friends like this, it’s nothing he ever felt comfortable initiating himself, but the warm feeling blooming in his stomach makes him realise he likes it.

“How come you’re just painting it white again?” Daehwi’s question is directed at Woojin.

Jinyoung’s wondered about that too. They’d bought all kinds of colours at the store because Woojin couldn’t choose, but in the end all he decided on was was a fresh coat of white paint to cover up the kind of old one that was in the room before.

“I don’t know.” Woojin shrugs, though it’s a little awkward from his position in Daehwi’s lap. “All my rooms have been white, I think. It felt weird picking something different.”

“But it’s so boring,” Daehwi complains.

“I wouldn’t mind doing something different, I guess. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“No, it’s your room, if you want it white then white is fine.” Daehwi seems to be giving in, if a little reluctantly, but Jinyoung suddenly has an idea.

“How about a compromise?” Jinyoung suggests.

“What kind of compromise?” Woojin asks hesitantly.

“Do you trust us?” Jinyoung asks,  looking to Daehwi to make it clear who he means by “Us”.

“Yes,” Woojin says unhesitantly.

“What are we doing?” Daehwi asks, clearly not minding being involved in whatever Jinyoung’s planning without being asked first. Jinyoung’s glad.

“Meet me back here, when everyone else is done painting and has left. Then I’ll tell you,” Jinyoung says.

“You’re kicking me out?” Woojin gasps, fake indignant.

“Of your room, for like a few hours. You’re hardly ever in here these days anyway,” Daehwi points out.

“Fine, you’re lucky I trust you,” Woojin settles back into Daehwi’s lap.

“Yeah, we are,” Daehwi says quietly.

“Hey,” Daehwi says, walking into Woojin’s room

It’s been a few hours since everyone finished painting and scattered around the house. Jinyoung is the only one in here now, knelt in front of one of the walls.

“Hey,” Jinyoung replies, glancing back at the other boy before turning back to the wall.

Daehwi walks over to him and kneels beside him.

“So, what are we doing?” He sounds excited, and maybe a little mischievous

“You do art, right?” Jinyoung asks in lieu of an answer.

“I mean, I sketch sometimes but I’m not great,” Daehwi shrugs. “Oh, and I made Jihoon a scrapbook for his birthday, that’s more crafts though.”

“I was thinking we could do something with one of the walls. That way the room’s still mostly white but there’s something more interesting as well,” Jinyoung says.

“What kind of something?” Daehwi asks.

Jinyoung pulls the sketch he’d quickly done earlier out of his pocket and hands it to Daehwi without looking at him. He can hear Daehwi unfold it, and then there’s silence for a few seconds too long and Jinyoung can feel that faint feeling of anxiety simmering in his stomach, knows it will bubble up and start to overflow if he doesn’t do something about it. “I-it’s just an idea, we don’t-”

“It’s beautiful. I love it,” Daehwi says quietly. “I never knew you were so good at art.”

“Eh, I’m okay at it, I guess. It’s no big deal,” Jinyoung says quickly, as if those words aren’t something he’s always wanted to hear. “Come on, let’s get to work so we can have this done by the time Woojin wants to sleep.” He’s clearly putting an end to the conversation, and Daehwi thankfully doesn’t push it.

They pull all the supplies Jinyoung had managed to gather (pencils, the paint they’d bought that Woojin had chosen not to use, any random stationary from his desk that he thought might come in handy). Daehwi plays music from his phone, a playlist of a lot of bubblegum-pop songs that Jinyoung has never heard mixed with songs that vary from the style and beat of those before them but feel like a fitting breather rather than something out of place. They each take a pencil and draw out Jinyoung’s sketch on the wall, having to modify the proportions of everything for the much bigger canvas, and adding new things when Daehwi has ideas that end up making it so much more than it was before.

When it’s all drawn out it’s time to paint it. Daehwi gets a little lost then. He can pick a paint brush and get it mostly between the lines, but he can’t choose what colour goes where and with what the same way Jinyoung can, or blend them in ways that create shape and depth the way Jinyoung’s practiced, so he ends up just sitting back and letting Jinyoung take over. Jinyoung feels bad about that, he didn’t ask Daehwi to do this with him so he could be bored or feel overshadowed, but when he looks at the other boy Daehwi doesn’t _seem_ bored. He’s watching Jinyoung paint with a steel-like focus and an expression that looks like… Jinyoung wants to say awe, but he doubts that’s right.

He doesn’t know how long he paints for. There’s something about drawing and painting that makes him forget time exists and passes. It calms him, lets him forget about the outside world for a while because he gets so lost in what he’s creating. When he’s finished the sun is starting to set, bathing the room in soft pinks and golds. He lies back, suddenly realising that his back and arm are aching. Daehwi runs his fingers through Jinyoung’s hair and he finds his eyes closing. Surprisingly he feels just as relaxed now as he was a few moments ago.

“Do you think Woojin will like it?” Jinyoung asks quietly.

“He’ll love it. He can’t not,” Daehwi says, and then. “You’re really talented, you know. You could go somewhere with this.”

Jinyoung feels that soft bubble of happiness at the words again, and this time he lets himself smile, just a little bit. “I couldn’t. You’re sweet. But I’m not good enough for that.”

This time, Daehwi doesn’t let the subject drop. “Yes, you are!” He sounds so insistent that Jinyoung almost believes it. “Do you enjoy it?” Daehwi continues.

“Of course I do.”

“Then you should at least try. Even if you don’t pursue it after, you should at least take it in school. Get a qualification, just in case.”

Jinyoung had thought of taking art classes every time choosing electives came around each year. He always almost wrote his name down, but he never actually did. He’s thought a lot about why, and as much as he hates to say it he thinks the answer is his parents. They’d have nothing against him taking art, probably even wouldn’t mind him pursuing it though it wasn’t “the smartest” career choice. But they would know he was taking it, they watched his school activities and grades as attentively as they watched everything else in his life. He’d never told them about his love for art, let them believe it was something he’d grown out of, as many children did with their passions. It was freeing, to have something that was just his.

He says as much to Daehwi.

“If your parents are so protective, why do they let you come here all the time? If they’re watching what you do, then do they know about your powers? About what we do?” Daehwi doesn’t sound judgemental or disbelieving, just curious.

“They work a lot, and they don’t want me home alone when they do it so they let me come here. They trust Jisung. They don’t trust a lot of people, not with me. But somehow they trust him. I think it’s you guys. They think he’s an angel for taking in so many kids.” His parents had presumed a long time ago that Jisung was a foster dad, and Jinyoung had never corrected them. It wasn’t like it wasn’t basically the truth. So what if there was actually no legal papers saying Jisung fostered them, or that he was less of a dad and more of a big brother and friend. “As for my powers, they don’t know. I got in a hell a lot of trouble for “sneaking out” for a while even though I was right there, but they never figured that out. Now that i have more control they presume my rebellious phase that never happened is over.”

“I mean….it must be nice though? That they love you so much, take care of you?” Daehwi says, but he sounds far away, and the reality of this situation hits Jinyoung like a ton of bricks.

Daehwi’s parents are dead. They’re _dead,_ have been since he was a young kid just old enough to remember them but not old enough to remember how it felt when he was with them, at least if what he’d put together from what he’s heard from Daehwi is right. And here Jinyoung is, complaining because his two alive and healthy parents spend _too much_ time with him and look after him in a way Daehwi can’t remember being looked after, even if Jinyoung is too old to still be looked after that way.

His anxiety doesn’t simmer this time. He doesn’t get a warning before it’s bubbling over, flooding his lungs. He’s knows in a minute he’s going to start struggling to breathe, so he uses the breath he has left to talk.

“I’m so sorry, Daehwi. You’re right, they love me. Even if it doesn’t really feel like love as much as it feels like they’re smothering me. But they’re there and i’m so ungrateful and I’m sorry and-“ Daehwi cuts Jinyoung off with a sharp look and Jinyoung’s mind is a mantra of “ _disappear disappear disappear.”_

Daehwi takes one of his hands and softly holds it in his own. It feels grounding, something tying Jinyoung to the physical world.

“You’re panicking, okay?” Daehwi speaks slowly but firmly. “But there’s nothing to panic about, Jinyoung. Everything is going to be okay. You’re with me, you’re safe, It’s _okay.”_

Jinyoung closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He nods. It’s only when he opens his eyes again he notices the tears in them, notices the tears in _Daehwi’s_ too.

“I am sorry,” Jinyoung says, more coherent now. “I shouldn’t have complained like that.”

“Hey,” Daehwi’s hand grips his a little tighter and Daehwi’s other hand comes up to nudge his chin up, forcing Jinyoung to make eye contact with him. “You can complain all you want. Just because you don’t think your problems are as bad as mine doesn’t mean they don’t matter. They matter if they matter to you. I’m your friend, Jinyoung, you can complain to me all you want.”

He knows Daehwi means it. He doesn’t know how he knows but he does. Maybe it’s simply trust.

“Thank you,” Jinyoung says quietly, not sure what else is right.

Daehwi is smiling again. “Do you feel up to getting Woojin now? I wanna see his face when he sees this!”

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.” Jinyoung smiles back.

They find Woojin in one of the bathrooms, brushing his teeth. Daehwi barely lets him spit out the toothpaste before he’s ushering him out of the room. Woojin complains, but when they plant him in front of the wall they painted he falls silent.

Jinyoung is nervous, but Daehwi quickly prompts Woojin with a “Well? What do you think?”

Woojin takes a step closer to the wall, almost reaching out to touch it before he thinks better of it when he probably realises that it’s still wet. “You guys did this?”

“Well, yeah,” Daehwi says, rolling his eyes though Woojin can’t see it.

“It’s….incredible,” Woojin breathes.

From the bottom left corner of the wall a small patch of dark blue fades and blooms into lighter shades. It flows like smoke, but glitters almost like a galaxy.This effect is repeated in the opposite corner, this time in red that blooms into pink. In the middle of the wall, under where the two blooming patches almost meet but not quite, there are flowers painted on the white. They’re all different colours that somehow match well. One is silver, with a strong and sturdy stem, a little taller than the rest. One is pale pink with huge petals. A tulip, the orange petals looking almost like they haven’t fully bloomed. One is small with connected petals that are orange on one side and pink on the other. A rose in soft pink. There’s a small and delicate one in bright colours next to a taller one with dark purple petals. A lily in pink and white. One with golden petals that are so perfect they look almost unreal. One with dark green leaves and a bundle of purple flowers on the top. The last one that they’d painted is bright yellow with petals so tiny they almost look like fuzz.

“I love it. Really.” Woojin says, louder and more firm this time.

Woojin doesn’t make a move to pull them into a hug, but his arms twitch in a way that apparently makes Daehwi believe he’s thinking about it. Daehwi does it for him, pulling them both in.

Yeah, Jinyoung really likes this.

 

* * *

 

 

Seongwoo exits the bathroom to find Daniel already in bed, under the covers on the side that had long been claimed as his (by “side” he meant not only the side but most of the middle too. Seongwoo’s long stopped complaining, if he ever has, it’s so long now that he’s not sure he can remember.)

Daniel blinks sleepily at him. Daniel’s been tired since the moment they got up to their room. Seongwoo’s almost surprised he managed to get in the shower and wash the paint off his skin before crawling into bed. When Seongwoo first got his job as a bartender they’d struggled to adjust to the fact that meant they’d be on different sleeping schedules, but now he’s used to seeing Daniel half-asleep by the time he goes out for work.

Still, instead of going straight to sleep Daniel blinks again, then reaches out in a way that tells Seongwoo to come over. Seongwoo can’t stay long, he’s already in his work uniform, a black button up and black pants, but he sits gingerly on the edge of the bed.

“Are you okay?” Daniel asks.

Seongwoo nods. “Are you?” He asks. He knows that Daniel is tired, and under that he seems content, but Seongwoo likes to ask instead of just presume, he’d be a pretty boring conversationalist if he didn’t.

Daniel nods. “What time do you get off tonight?”

“Depends. How exactly am I gonna be getting off?” Seongwoo smirks.

Daniel laughs and shoves Seongwoo on the shoulder. Seongwoo waits for him to stop, enjoying Daniel’s amusement.. When his laughter fades away, Seongwoo speaks again.

“I’ll be working until three a.m”

“Are you coming back here after? Or are you gonna head back to your place?” Daniel asks.

“Hmm, not sure. Is it cool if I decide later and just let myself in?”

“Of course it is. You should know that by now.”

“I don’t know everything because of my powers. I can read emotions, not minds, _you_ should know that by now.” Seongwoo pokes Daniel, clearly teasing.

“I do,” Daniel huffs playfully. “I mean you should know because we’ve been together forever.”

“Yeah, I guess we have.” Seongwoo’s voice softens.

“God, we were so young when we met.” Daniel laughs.

  


_Southway preparatory academy was just like the other four high schools Seongwoo has been to. The students walked around in blazers, the teachers droned on in voices that were hard to listen to, the certificates and medals on the tall walls boast “excellence” and “class” and talked about the school’s dead founders and their especially successful students._

_It made it easy to get used to, not that he’s not used to it anyway. He was used to the way students stared at and gossiped about him as a new student. They were doing it even more this time since he moved here a couple of weeks into senior year. He talked to them, and he joked, and he flirted, until the gossip starts to die down into things like “Is he single?” “Will he be coming to my party next weekend?” “Does he like anyone?” Instead of the more boring stuff._

_It had been two months since he transferred here and he was just hoping that his dad didn’t decide that he wanted to open up yet another new branch of their company so he could finish his senior year without the hassle of trying to catch up in another new school. He’d accepted he was barely going to pass his exams, but teachers piling catch up work on him was exhausting even when he was just going to throw it out the second he left the classroom._

_He’d found himself sitting with a group of people at lunch. They were his friends, he supposed, or at least they considered him a friend. He couldn’t say he cared about them that much, couldn’t say he’d cared too much about anyone at school since the second one he moved to. But they threw good parties so that was enough for him to stick with them._

_He entertained himself by flirting with the girl next to him. Her name was Natalie? Maybe Naomi? He wasn’t sure. But she had pretty shoulder length hair, nice eyes, and was happy to flirt back._

_After a little bit of eye-contact and some coy smiles she asked him to come look over her economics homework in the library before next period. He didn’t take economics, they both knew that. He had time for a quick makeout session before whatever the hell he had next period though._

_They were walking to leave the cafeteria and Seongwoo wasn’t really paying attention to his surroundings. That’s probably how he suddenly found himself stumbling to keep his footing with what looked like yogurt all over his shirt._

_“Oh dude, I’m so sorry.” There was a boy standing in front of him, looking at him apologetically. “It was an accident, I swear. I tripped.”_

_Seongwoo had never seen this boy before. Maybe he was an underclassmen, or maybe he’d just simply hadn’t noticed him, he wasn’t sure. The boy's expression changed from embarrassed to concerned and that’s when Seongwoo realised he hadn’t said anything. He’d just stared. That wasn’t like him at all._

_“Uhhh, like I said, sorry,” The boy said before walking away._

_Seongwoo groaned as he remembered his shirt was still covered in yoghurt. Fuck it, he decided, his shirt was ruined so he may as well go home for the rest of the day. Goodbye for now, school number four._

_He forgot about the encounter and the boy after that. At least, he did until the Halloween party. It was being thrown by one of his “friends”, the one with the most money and the biggest house and the most absent parents, all of which was saying something. Half the school was invited, and the other half would probably show up anyway._

_Seongwoo skipped out on shopping and set-up duty, even though he’d been asked. By the time he arrived the party was already in full swing. The dimly-lit living room was full of costumed bodies dancing to some heavy techno beat, clearly already tipsy. Seongwoo knew he’d be part of that eventually, but first he made his way to the kitchen where he knew the alcohol would be kept._

_He drank a few drinks. He went and danced. He talked to some strangers who either knew him or wanted to. He repeated. He was on his fourth trip to the kitchen and unsure what number of drinks when things changed._

_The kitchen was empty except for him and two other guys talking by the drinks table. He ignored them at first and poured himself some of the ridiculously strong tasting mystery punch._

_“Hey, do you know where the bathroom is?” One of the guys asked him. He was dressed in all green and has a headband on with two leaves sticking out the top of it. Most people here were dressed in some sort of costume, and Seongwoo had given up trying to guess what half of them were at least three drinks ago._

_Seongwoo pointed to roughly where he remembered the bathroom being from last time he was here  and the guy thanked him and walked away, leaving his friend behind._

_Now that Seongwoo was looking at him, he realised the friend seemed familiar. It took him a moment, especially with the alcohol that was probably starting to go to his head, but eventually Seongwoo figured out where he knows him from._

_“Hey! You’re that guy who spilled yogurt on me in the cafeteria!” Seongwoo exclaimed, maybe a little too excitedly._

_“Oh...uhhh...yeah. Hey.” The guy shifted, clearly awkward. Not that Seongwoo needed body language to know he felt awkward. He didn’t know where he got it from but he was incredibly good at knowing how people feel._

_“Hey! How have you been? Spill any drinks on anyone tonight?” Seongwoo asked. He was hoping to lighten the atmosphere. There was something so uncomfortable about people being awkward around him. He hated it. The guy laughed, but despite that the awkwardness only seemed to grow. Seongwoo internally sighed decided to try a different tactic._

_“So, what are you dressed as?” He asked._

_Yogurt-Guy forgot his awkwardness in favour of looking at Seongwoo with an expression that was clearly disbelieving and maybe a little offended. “You mean you can’t tell?”_

_Seongwoo would have had to live under a rock to not recognise a Harry Potter costume. But the awkwardness was gone, and that’s what he wanted, so he was willing to pretend._

_“Well, can you tell what I’m dressed as?” Seongwoo asked, avoiding the question._

_Yogurt-guy looked him up and down and furrowed his eyebrows. Confusion was coming off him in waves. It was kind of cute. Seongwoo held in a laugh._

_“Okay, I have no idea,” He admitted._

_Seongwoo grinned. “I’m a hot guy, but-“ he paused for dramatic effect and pointed to the lensless glasses on his face “-with glasses. The glasses are what make it a costume.”_

_Yogurt-guy laughed, and Seongwoo could tell he actually found it funny instead of just feeling awkward this time. It made Seongwoo grin wider._

_“You really couldn’t be bothered to dress up, huh?” Yogurt-guy asked when his laughter has died down._

_“Nope,” Seongwoo admitted. “I’m not really a Halloween guy.”_

_“What kind of guy are you, then?”_

_The atmosphere was a lot more relaxed now, and Seongwoo hadn’t found anyone he could be bothered to flirt with yet. This guy would do, he decided._

_“Well, I could be the guy you scandalously make out with in the kitchen tonight.” He smirked._

_Yogurt-guy clearly wasn’t expecting that, and he flushed, almost stuttering with his answer. “Uhhh...thanks but...I’m straight?”_

_"Why are you saying it like it’s a question?” Seongwoo asked. Whatever filter he may have had before was long gone._

_“It’s not. I’m straight.” The guy said more firmly._

_Seongwoo shrugged. It was the yogurt-guy’s loss, not his._

_“Cool.” Seongwoo said easily. “Guess I’ll see you around then….uh…” Seongwoo realised then he didn’t know this guys name, which was probably why he keeps calling him “yogurt-guy” in his head._

_“Daniel.”_

_“Seongwoo” He said, finishing his drink and making his way out the kitchen with a wave. “Later, Daniel.”_

_He expected that that would be the last of that and he’ll have forgotten about Daniel again by the morning._

  


“Any regrets?” Seongwoo asks. “That you’ve been with me forever?”

“Never,” Daniel says easily, reaching out to tangle their hands together.

“Good,” Seongwoo says, and then kisses him. “I’ll be back later, maybe.”

“Okay.” Daniel smiles and burrows further under the covers as Seongwoo leaves the room.

“Oh, are you heading to work?” Jaehwan asks him when they run into each other in the hallway.

“Yeah,” Seongwoo answers.

“I’ll walk with you. I was gonna head out anyway.”

Seongwoo nods and they start walking towards the door together. “You know,” Jaehwan says suddenly, “I’ve never understood why you have a job as a barman.”

“It was either this or let Daniel drag me into his dream of an organic jam business,” Seongwoo replies quickly.

“...Organic jam business.” Jaehwan repeats unsurely.

“Yeah. Don’t bring it up around Daniel. He’s still pretty upset over his lost dream.” Seongwoo sighs.

“My point was-” Jaehwan starts again, breaking the atmosphere that Seongwoo created with his possibly exaggerated organic jam story “-You’re like...rich as fuck. Why do you have a job at all?”

“You’re not. Why _don’t_ you have a job?” Seongwoo counters.

“I’ll have you know I’m following my dream. You can blame your dumbass boyfriend for that one.” Jaehwan says.

“He is dumb. I’ll agree with that.” Seongwoo laughs and so does Jaehwan. “Anyway, maybe I’m following my dream, ever think of that?”

“...Your dream of being a bartender?” Jaehwan says, doubt clear on his face.

“No weirder than organic jam.” Seongwoo shrugs, then lets himself get a little more serious, just a little bit. He can sense how curious Jaehwan is and he doesn’t wanna make him suffer...not now that he had his fun with it, anyway. “Nah, just my dream of doing _something_.”

Seongwoo hadn’t had job offers being handed left and right to him when he graduated high school. Moving around so much had caused even more of a blow to his education than he’d realised it would at the time and though he hadn’t exactly failed, his grades weren’t up to par with what was expected for someone with a string of the best schools money could buy under his belt.

He could have gone and worked for his dad, like so many of the people he’d graduated with, but he couldn’t stand the idea of offices and meetings all day, it sounded so _boring_. But so did staying in his apartment all day and night. So, over the years he just took to picking up whatever decent jobs would have him and dropping them if he got bored of those too. It works for everyone.

“Does this dream involve me getting free drinks tonight?” Jaehwan asks, though it’s clearly more of a suggestion than a question.

“It involves one free drink and I get to choose whatever it is.”

“Hmm...accepted.” Jaehwan agrees. “Okay, let’s go.”

They finally leave the house and get in Seongwoo’s car. He starts the engine and turns the radio on as they drive. He can sense Jaehwan’s emotions really well in here, since they’re alone in a small space, but he ignores them and focuses on driving. It’s not as if the feelings that radiate off him when he’s around him or Daniel are anything new, anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for scenes of homophobia and use of a homophobic slur in this chapter.

Minhyun tries to ignore the sting in his eyes and keep his focus on the screen. He doesn’t know how long he’s been holed up in his room, but there’s a blanket of darkness around him; the only thing illuminating the room is the glare of the computer in front of him. He isn’t sure if this is the first time the sky has fallen dark since he locked himself in here. How long has he been awake? He doesn’t know.

He knows if Jisung could see him now, he’d fret and practically order him to go to bed. But he can’t see him now, and with no one to tell him to stop he isn’t going to, not until he passes out. He’s learned from experience. His fingers tap frantically on the keyboard. He’s sure the endless amount of spelling mistakes and random characters are going to annoy him eventually, but right now he doesn’t care. His single-minded obsession has taken over for the night.

He’s been watching the same five second clip of grainy security footage over and over for so long he’s forgotten again that there’s a world apart from this when his phone buzzes. He just stares at the device blankly for a moment, struggling to comprehend what that noise means and why his phone is making it. Eventually, he realises it means someone text him, and he’d laugh at how obvious that was if he wasn’t still too out of it to do so. He slowly picks up the phone, wondering why he’s so hesitant. It’s just a phone, he tells himself, there’s nothing to be scared of, he tells himself.

He almost drops it when he reads the notification on the screen.

**Minki:**

**Hey! I was wondering if you were free to get dinner tomorrow? I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long.**

Why does Minki have to text _now_? It’s almost eerie, that after a few months of no contact he chose now all of times. Minhyun places the phone far away from him with shaking hands, ignoring the message.

He struggles to get back into the headspace he was in before. The darkness is suddenly suffocating, the glare of the screen too bright, the room too silent. He thinks the one noise he can hear is the beating of his heart, and he wonders if it’s supposed to be a loud and staccato sound that feels like a countdown.

When his phone rings this time, he grabs hold of it gratefully and answers without even looking at who it is.

He needs the escape.

“Minhyun,”  The voice on the other end of the call says. He recognises the voice quicker than he recognises his own name.

“Minki,” Minhyun breathes.

There’s a stretch of silence that doesn’t settle well with Minhyun. If he knows Minki, which he isn’t entirely sure he does anymore, then this call isn’t going anywhere good.

“Did you get my text?” Minki finally asks. It sounds casual, but he can hear the steel behind Minki’s voice.

“Yes,” Minhyun answers honestly.

“Okay, and how about the five before that?” Minki asks, more steel than casualness. Minki is a force to be reckoned with when he’s angry, even more so because he doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to.

“Minki,” Minhyun breathes again, though this time it sounds choked.

“Stop ‘Minki’ing me and just talk to me, Minhyun!” He snaps, steel turning to fire. “It’s been months since I’ve heard anything from you! Since anyone has!”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Minhyun says weakly.

“Why are you sorry? Why didn’t you just talk to us? Where have you been?” Minki’s questions are rapid fire and they go through Minhyun’s mind like molasses, so slow he can barely comprehend them.

“I’ve been...with friends,” Minhyun says. He’d told Minki that he was moving from his old place into a house with some people he’d met, but that was all he’d told him about everyone in the brief contact they’d had.

“And that means forgetting your old friends?” Minki demands.

That hurts. Minhyun kind of thinks he deserves it.

“No..I..it’s- you know why i’m busy!” Minhyun says desperately.

He hears Minki sigh, so loud in the overwhelming silence. He can imagine the way Minki’s shoulders deflate and his eyes close for a moment. It’s been so long and yet his mannerisms are still ingrained in Minhyun’s memory.

“I know,” Minki says, and it’s quiet. Minhyun has always hated when Minki’s quiet, because it means that there’s something truly wrong.

“I know. I understand why you’re doing what you’re doing.” The ‘even if I don’t agree with it’ is left unspoken. “I just...I know things will never be like they used to be. But I want us to still be friends.”

The only part Minhyun’s mind latches onto is that things will never be like they used to be.

 

 

_Minhyun’s fist collided with what he was pretty sure was someone’s temple and with that the final guy was unconscious along with his two friends. Minhyun leaned against the wall to catch his breath._

_“That was awesome, Minhyun,” Aron said, dragging a hand through his hair that was now drenched with sweat._

_“Yeah, well, couldn’t have done it without you and you guys,” Minhyun said._

_“Come on, we should get out of here.” That was Jonghyun, as sweaty and tired as any of them but still making plans._

_“Yeah, before the cops show up,” Dongho laughed._

_“If only they would realise we’re doing them a public service,” Minki sighed._

_As tired as they were their bodies were thrumming with adrenaline too. It was late, the streets empty and only lit up by streetlights and neon store signs. An arm slung itself around Minhyun’s shoulder._

_“How are you holding up?” Jonghyun asked. There was sweat dripping down his forehead, his eyes were glittering and his grin was so full of exhilaration it was almost wild._

_Minhyun had never felt more alive._

_“I’m….I’m-“ Minhyun cut himself off by leaning in to claim Jonghyun’s lips._

_The kiss was frantic, both of them overwhelmed with adrenaline and raw hunger. It only added to the intensity of the evening; the world was reduced to the nipping air and the roar of blood in his ears and Jonghyun’s lips._

_“It is freezing out here in case you haven’t noticed! Do you mind keeping your hands to yourselves so we can walk?!” Minki yelled, presumably at them._

_Minhyun broke away from the kiss when Jonghyun started to laugh against his lips. His laugh was normally a little “heh heh heh” but tonight he threw his head back, voice starting to lose sound. Alive._

_Minhyun kind of wanted to kiss Jonghyun again, but he held back, instead just clasping Jonghyun’s hand in his own, heavy pulses beating against each other as they walked through the empty night with their friends._

_They got back to Jonghyun’s house, careful not to wake up his parents who were still upstairs and sleeping soundly with no idea what their son was up to. The adrenaline rush started to fade, leaving a tiredness in his bones, but it was not a bad feeling. He felt at peace in the blanket of quiet with them._

_He ended up cleaning their wounds. He wiped a trickle of blood from Aron’s eyebrow and some from Minki’s bicep (“This wouldn’t have happened if you’d just worn a hoodie like the rest of us.” “Fashion comes first, Minhyun. I’d sooner die than dress ‘practically’.”) Jonghyun, Dongho, and himself were somehow, miraculously, unharmed. They sprawled around Jonghyun’s living room then. In the silence, in the comfort of a familiar place, none of what they’d just done felt real. But it was._

_“So,” Jonghyun said, quiet, as if he’s afraid if he speaks too loudly he’ll break something. “I think that went pretty well, considering it was the first time.”_

_The first time. Minhyun wasn’t sure how they ended up here. Most of them were just eighteen. When you’re eighteen, and you find out your best friends of two years have powers just like you do, you don’t expect to go out fighting crime. His only explanation was Jonghyun. Before Minhyun met him, he’d thought he’d end up going to college doing some degree he didn’t care about before getting a safe job in an office somewhere. But Jonghyun saw that part inside of him that wanted something more and helped coax it out with his encouragement and mere presence. He couldn’t remember if it was Jonghyun’s idea to do this or not, but he couldn’t imagine they would have done it without him._

_“So...how does everyone feel about what we just did? I need to know.”_

_Minhyun felt as if he were two people, worlds away from each other. In one world he felt like a spark, vibrant, alive, and unstoppable. In another, he felt like a child, scared, unsure, and weak. He looked at Jonghyun. There was a sense of unease on his face, probably nervous for their answers and about the fact they hadn’t answered at all yet. Beneath that, though, he was solid, like he knew what to do no matter what. If he was also straddling two worlds right now, you wouldn’t be able to tell._

_In both worlds, Minhyun was in love._

_“I think….I want to do it again,” Minhyun said cautiously._

_“Okay.” Jonghyun didn’t say anything else, but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Anyone else?”_

_“Did you see me punch that guy as he was running away?” That was sick! I definitely want to do that again,” Aron said, buzzing with excitement._

_Minhyun remembered how Aron’s arm had stretched to punch a guy almost an entire street away. How minki had breathed a dark purple miasma of poison right into his face after, knocking him out. How Jonghyun had held them all back with a blast of air and Dongho had used his super-strength to protect Minhyun. Protect him, because he couldn’t use his powers in a fight like they could. But he’d been learning, and he’d learn how to fight and take care of himself for this-for them._

_“I’m in too,” Dongho said._

_“Yeah, me too,” Minki agreed._

_“Okay, I guess that’s unanimous then.” Jonghyun nodded, the ghost of a smile turning into a full one. “It’s late. We should all go to sleep. We’ll talk about this more in the morning.”_

_They made their way to Jonghyun’s bedroom, as quiet as five young boys could be. None of them had moved out of their parents’ house yet, though Aron was in the process of finding an apartment, so they couldn’t go home at this time without risking waking their parents up and finding out they’d been out in the middle of the night without saying anything. So, instead of going home, they piled into Jonghyun’s small bedroom and sprawled out on the floor under spare blankets and jackets._

_Minhyun found himself lying awake even after he noticed everyone fall asleep around him. He needed some time to think, yet he wasn’t sure what he should be thinking of. He ended up just staring at the ceiling, letting his mind exist as his body started to shut down into sleep. He was floating somewhere between consciousness and sleep when he heard something other than the rhythm of his friends breathing and the old clock Jonghyun had ticking the time away._

_“Minhyun? Are you awake?” Jonghyun asked._

_Minhyun had presumed he was asleep like everyone else, though he couldn’t see him since he was up in his bed and Minhyun was on the floor next to it. Either he’d just woken up or he’d been lying awake in the same state of mind Minhyun was._

_“Yeah, I’m awake,” He answered._

_“Me too,” Jonghyun sighed._

_Minhyun snorted. “I should hope so, yeah,”_

_“Stop laughing at me and get up here.”_

_Minhyun carefully climbed out from under his covers and padded over to the bed. It was a single bed, logically only big enough for Jonghyun himself, but they’d managed to both fit before. Sometimes, they’d even all squeezed in, though they’d quickly have to give up on actually sleeping like that before someone fell to their death. Minhyun got into the bed. His limbs immediately collided with Jonghyun’s and they had to shift around to make sure that they were both comfortable. Even then there wasn’t enough of the blanket to cover them both. Minhyun couldn’t find it in him to mind._

_“What’s keeping you up?” Jonghyun asked._

_The room was dark except for the moonlight streaming through the window. He didn’t need the light to perfectly imagine how Jonghyun looked, he knew his face almost as well as he knew his own by now._

_“I don’t know. Just can’t sleep, I guess,” Minhyun said._

_“Yeah, me neither,” Jonghyun replied. “Are you sure you meant what you said earlier? About wanting this to become a regular thing? You sounded the least sure.”_

  _“Yeah,” Minhyun said softly. “I was kind of scared. I still kind of am. But that was...fun. I’m not saying hitting people was fun, though it was surprisingly easier than I thought it would be.” He cut himself off with a light laugh. “But doing something good? That was fun. Doing something I never expected myself to do? That was fun. Doing it with you? That was….fun.”_

_“Yeah, it was definitely...fun.” Jonghyun laughed. “If you’re sure, then okay. Just let me know if you aren’t. I care about you more than I care about any of the rest of this.”_

_“Wow, who knew you were so romantic?” Minhyun teased._

_He couldn’t see it, but he imagined Jonghyun was blushing._

_“I’m your boyfriend, what’s that supposed to mean?” Jonghyun protested._

_“It’s supposed to mean that you would have been too afraid to ask me out if it wasn’t for Minki’s rather aggressive intervention.” Minhyun reminded him._

_“He told us to stop dancing around each other and get our shit together because we’re making everything uncomfortable. That’s as much on you as it is on me.”_

_Minhyun didn’t deny it, instead just laughed at the memory of how awkward and stupid they both were last year._

_“I want to do this, Jonghyun. Don’t you?” Minhyun asked, putting the conversation back on it’s original track._

_“Yeah, I do. It’s fun.”_

_“Really, surprisingly, fun,” Minhyun agreed._

_“Can you lovebirds shut the hell up! Some of us got punched in the face and deserve to sleep!” Came Aron’s voice from the floor._

_Minhyun and Jonghyun looked at eachother and laughed._

_“He totally thinks he’s cool for getting punched in the face,” Minhyun whispered, just loud enough for Aron to hear too._

_“Definitely. He’ll probably go into work tomorrow and show that tiny cut off to everyone.”_

_“Oh my god, remind me why I’m friends with literal children,” Aron sighed, before Minhyun heard his blanket rustle as he presumably turned away from them._

_“Goodnight, lovebird,” Minhyun laughed as he repeated Aron’s earlier name to Jonghyun._

_“Yeah, goodnight,” Jonghyun said softly. “I love you.”_

_“Love you too,” Minhyun whispered. His brain was finally calming down and he drifted off to sleep easily._

 

 

“Yeah, things won’t be the same,” Minhyun says tightly. “But that’s why I’m doing this, because one day…” Minhyun trails off, unable to say the rest of the sentence.

He hears Minki sigh into the phone, part exhaustion, part pity. Minhyun wants to scream. If there’s one thing he didn’t need, it’s pity. Pity makes it seem like what he’s doing is pointless, like it’s already over. That’s not true. He can do this, he knows it. The fear of pity is the reason that Jisung is the only one who knows about all of this. He feels bad, sometimes, keeping such a key part of his life, of _himself,_ a secret from his friends when they told him all about them. They’d probably want to know, probably want to help, even, but the idea of pity in their voices or on their faces has made him keep it all to himself.

“I want this as much as you do, Minhyun,” Minki says.

“Then why aren’t you trying? Why aren’t you even supporting me?” Minhyun is surprised by the venom in his own voice. It’s not the first time he’s had this exact thought, but it’s the first time he’s said it out loud. In the back of his mind, he realises that the fact that he’s kept it inside for so long is the reason it comes out so harshly now, but he doesn’t acknowledge the thought.

“Because I can’t spend my life on this!” Minki snaps, and it’s so violent Minhyun almost recoils in his chair. “Because we did a bunch of stuff when we were young and stupid and thought it would all work out, but it didn’t! It didn’t work out, Minhyun, and now I need to get my life back on track no matter how much I want him to come back to us!”

Minhyun doesn’t know if he’s happy or angry that he understands where Minki is coming from. He knows how much time and energy he’s put into this already. He knows in the back of his mind that he’s probably not helping himself. But he can’t stop.

“I get it, Minki, don’t worry.” He’s suddenly so tired. At least, it feels sudden, the exhaustion is probably always there, he’s just so used to it that he doesn’t notice.

“Jonghyun’s been missing for over a year, Minhyun,” Minki says softly. Minhyun flinches. He’s more than aware of that, it doesn’t change the fact he hates hearing it. “I- I couldn’t just keep waiting for him to come back, it was killing me.”

Minhyun knows how that feels. Waiting, doing nothing, sitting in the apartment they once shared day after days with no news had been slowly killing him too. It’s why he decided to stop waiting and start doing something. So he started looking, anywhere, for anything, that could possibly tell him what happened to Jonghyun and where he is. But when he’d told Minki, even in part, what he was planning, he’d had seen it as moving back instead of forward.

“Just come to dinner tomorrow, Minhyun. Aron and Dongho are gonna be there too. We don’t have to talk about Jonghyun, or the past. We’re just going to be friends, normal friends,” Minki says when Minhyun doesn’t respond.

The sting in his eyes is still there, as well a drumming pain that’s started at the back of his head. The room is still too quiet, and too dark, as if there’s no world outside, there’s just this room and nothing else. If there is a world, Minhyun can’t bring himself to think about it right now.

“I’ll let you know in the morning. I think I need to sleep first,” Minhyun sighs into the phone. He’s half-expecting an argument, but he doesn’t get one.

“You better text me in the morning or I’m gonna kick your ass.” Minki’s laugh sounds watery. Minhyun is too tired to give him comfort. He couldn’t, anyway. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He hangs up the phone and now he’s alone again.

He shuts down his computer, drags himself over to bed, and thanks whoever is out there that he’s tired enough for his mind to stay blank as he waits to fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Sungwoon has three papers to finish before next Monday. He’s only about halfway through the first one when the rest of the house wakes up and he finds himself getting distracted.

“Where did I leave my blue shirt?” Daniel mumbles, searching through the clean laundry basket by the washing machine.

“You split a chocolate fudge milkshake on it last Wednesday. It’s probably still in your laundry,” Sungwoon answers.

Daniel pops up from behind the counter. “Damn, you’re right.” A pause. “Man, I really want a chocolate fudge milkshake now.”

“Go get a milkshake then,” Sungwoon says, barely listening.

“I don’t wanna go alone!” Daniel complains. “Come get a milkshake with me!”

“Isn’t it getting too cold for milkshakes?” Sungwoon asks.

“It’s never too cold for milkshakes!” Daniel says, as if that should be obvious.

Sungwoon looks back at his work. It’s probably not going to get done today anyway. He sighs.

“Hey!” He yells to the rest of the house. “Who wants to come get milkshakes?”

The house bursts into a flurry of excitement. Sungwoon has never seen a group of grown and almost-grown men run for their shoes and jackets so fast. He doesn’t even think he’s seen them in this much of a hurry when it comes to work, school, or superhero stuff.

“Does no one else think it’s getting too cold for milkshakes?” Sungwoon sighs.

“That’s what the government wants you to think and also time is fake,” Guanlin says from where he’s shrugging his jacket on.

Sungwoon can accept that, he guesses.

They’d long found _their_ milkshake place. It’s kind of a walk from the house, and with only two cars between eleven of them they can’t fit everyone in. It’s worth it though, even Sungwoon agrees and he’s more of a coffee than a milkshake guy. Sunshine not only makes the best milkshakes he’s ever had, but the staff are chill and don’t mind them pushing the tables together to seat all ten (Now eleven. Sungwoon suddenly realises this is the first time they’re taking Woojin there) of them.

The bell over the door rings as they enter. There’s two familiar faces working behind the yellow counter.They all swarm over in a group, taking a look at the menu boards above even though most of them have a regular order by now. Ordering is a mess, but Eunki and Sunghyuk have a system developed to deal with them and other big groups. Soon enough, they’ve all ordered except for Woojin, who is still looking at the options with a thoughtful expression.

“Get the chocolate fudge, it’s really good,” Daniel suggests to him.

“The peanut-butter one is the best,” Jihoon says.

Woojin doesn’t respond to either of them, instead going “uh- uh- pistachio.” to the men behind the counter.

They all share a look.

“Who the hell orders pistachio?” Jihoon mutters, more to himself than to Woojin.

“I was nervous, okay?” Woojin defends himself, crossing his arms, still facing the counter instead of Jihoon.

Jihoon doesn’t say anything else, but he seems like he’s thinking about something. Sungwoon doesn’t want to ask. It’s up to Woojin and Jihoon to talk to each other like human beings, or maybe it’s up to Jisung or Daehwi or someone else who actually knows how to give advice like that, but what he’s saying is it’s definitely not up to him.

They drag some tables in the corner together so that there’s more or less enough room to seat them all comfortably. Eunki brings their drinks over in one trip, and Sungwoon has absolutely no idea how he manages to carry eleven drinks at once. He’s impressed and half-suspicious that Eunki has some milkshake-carrying related power.

Sungwoon takes a sip of his fruity pebble milkshake as everyone else starts to drink their own. They’re silent for a moment, but slowly conversations start up. After a few moments, Daniel gets everyone's attention.

“Can we get a cat?” He asks the entire table.

Everyone falls silent.

“What?” Sungwoon asks eventually.

“I miss having cats. Can we get a cat?”

“...Well, how does everyone feel about getting a cat?” Jisung asks, apparently deciding to just go with it.

“I’m not a fan of cats. They’re evil, I know it. You can see it in their little eyes,” Guanlin comments.

“That’s not true! The cats I had at my parents house were angels!” Daniel protests.

“One of them scratched me so hard you almost took me to the emergency room,” Seongwoo says, clearly still bitter about the situation.

“Well, maybe she just didn’t like you.” Daniel crosses his arms.

“She didn’t! That’s like the whole problem!”

“They were always nice to me.” Jisung shrugs.

Daniel smiles.

“If you want a cat and everyone else agrees, we can get get a cat,” Seongwoo huffs.

Daniel leans over and kisses him on the lips. “You’re the best, babe.”

Sungwoon knew that they weren’t the only people in the milkshake cafe, but he hadn’t actually thought much of it until now. Daniel and Seongwoo haven’t shied away from public displays of affection for as long as he’s known them. For a while, he’d been surprised by it, but it’s long since become a part of normal life for all of them.

It’s obviously not a normal part of other people's lives. A couple of tables away, a man and a woman wear matching expressions of disgust and start muttering to each other, but they clearly have no worries about what they’re saying being heard by the group, in fact, they probably want it to be.

“Ugh, why can’t people like that just do those things in private?” The woman seethes.

“I know, why can’t they keep these things to themselves? Away from us,” The man agrees.

Sungwoon doesn’t know if Daniel and Seongwoo can hear this. They’re sitting at the other end of the table from him, further away from the couple. Sungwoon hopes they can’t. He wishes he hadn’t and it wasn’t even about him, though really it wasn’t just about Daniel and Seongwoo but about all people like them, like him. Sungwoon can feel his hands tightening on the sides of the chair even though he doesn’t mean for them to.

 

 

_Sungwoon had known for a long time that he liked both girls and boys. He’d never hidden it, really, and he was sure his closest friends knew, but he’d never announced it to everyone he knew either. He just didn’t see the point. It was his business who he was interested in, right? Maybe he’d date a girl, like he had before, though they were relationships between kids that didn’t really mean anything, or maybe he’d end up with a boy. If he was dating a boy, and the boy wanted people to know about their relationship, then that’s when he’d tell people. But he figured he didn’t have to worry about it before then._

_He was fourteen. It was the thirtieth of May. The weather was warm with a light, refreshing, breeze. He met a boy._

_“Apparently it’s really easy to sneak into this club. The bouncers never check for I.D,” Moonkyu explained._

_They were sat at their usual lunch table. Sungwoon was half reading his chemistry textbook, half listening to whatever his friends were talking about. He looked up and frowned._

_“Okay, but why would we do that?” He asked. “None of us have ever touched alcohol in our lives, we don’t care about dancing, and we already have a movie night planned for Saturday.”_

_“Oh yeah, we wouldn’t do that. I’m just explaining why it seems like Youjin and Haein are hungover as hell today,” Moonkyu snorted._

_Sungwoon rolled his eyes. Moonkyu was saved from the scathing retort he had when the bell rang._

_“I have history class next. I’ll see you after school?” Sungwoon asked, already shoving his book in his backpack._

_“Yeah, sure. Me and Junhyuk were gonna go get pizza, wanna come?” Moonkyu didn’t seem rushed by the bell, instead leisurely putting his stuff away._

_“Maybe. I have to study but if I have time then sure.”_

_Moonkyu nodded. He was more than used to Sungwoon cancelling plans to study by now. The university Sungwoon had decided he wanted to get into had high standards, and he was constantly striving to meet them._

_Once he was in class, he set out his stuff on his desk and waited for the rest of the students to arrive. Usually, a friend would sit at the desk next to him. Today, another boy slid into the seat instead. Sungwoon knew of him, he guessed, but they’d never really talked. Sungwoon wondered why the boy  wasn’t sitting with his usual group of friends, but he shrugged it off. He didn’t care much who sat next to him as long as they didn’t disturb him._

_The boy, it turns out, was a disturbance._

_“Hey, what’s the answer to number six?” He whispered to Sungwoon. This was the third time (maybe fourth, Sungwoon wasn’t sure. When he looks back, he knows for sure it’s the third.) that he’s asked Sungwoon the answer to a question._

_“Dude, if you’re stuck can’t you just ask the teacher?” Sungwoon tried to say it a lot more civilly than he felt._

_“But you’re so smart, though!” The guy said. Sungwoon turned to look at him and found himself taken aback by his smile. “I feel like I can learn way more from you than I can from the teacher.”_

_Sungwoon’s heart skipped a beat. He came out of history class that day with full marks on his assignment and a crush._

 

 

_They started dating._

_It happened surprisingly fast. Really, they’d only talked in that one class and smiled at eachother in the hallways. Their first conversation was two weeks ago at most. Even more surprisingly, it wasn’t Sungwoon who asked. Not that he was going to. Even though he had a crush he wasn’t going to ask a boy he barely knew out, not until he found out if said boy liked boys anyway. Before he could find out through any other means, Sungwoon found himself cornered in an empty stairwell after class and asked to be a boy’s boyfriend for the first time._

_They went on dates, sometimes, and Sungwoon had so much fun that it didn’t occur to him they didn’t go anywhere where anyone else from their school was likely to be. Sungwoon tried to kiss him once, and his boyfriend pulled away quickly with an uncomfortable expression on his face. That was okay, they were only fourteen, some people their age weren’t interested in kissing yet. Sungwoon asked him one day, if it was that theoretical time that Sungwoon knew would come one day, the time where he should finally tell people about his sexuality instead of letting them think whatever they wanted. The response he got was that his boyfriend wasn’t ready for that yet, and Sungwoon accepted that._

_It wasn’t until they’d been together for a little over a month that the truth came crashing down around him, leaving cracks stretching out for miles from where it fell._

_His boyfriend had sent him a text that morning, asking him on a date that afternoon at a coffee shop not far from their school. It was a place a lot of students frequented, even on weekends, and Sungwoon had asked if he was sure about this. He’d said he was, so Sungwoon said he’d be there._

_When he got there, his boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. Sungwoon took a table near the back, feeling kind of awkward about sitting without ordering anything, but he’d rather wait._

_Five minutes._

_Ten._

_Fifteen._

_His boyfriend came in twenty minutes after the time they’d agreed to meet. That was surprising, but what was more surprising was that he’d came in with about five other people. Sungwoon vaguely recognised them as the friends his boyfriend had sat with in history class before he’d started sitting by him instead. He still sat with them at lunch, and Sungwoon still sat with his friends, and the groups never mixed. Sungwoon knew that was probably because his boyfriend didn’t want anyone, including his friends, to know they were dating. So why bring them here now? Was he finally planning to tell them?_

_They came over to the table but didn’t sit down, not even his boyfriend, instead staying at the side and looking down at Sungwoon without so much as a word._

_“...Hi?” Sungwoon said. He wasn’t usually awkward; in fact, he’d consider himself fairly outgoing and unafraid. But something about this whole situation had thrown him through a loop. He felt on guard, but he didn’t know why._

_“Hi, Sungwoon.” His boyfriend sounded different somehow. Less friendly, less caring._

_Sungwoon didn’t know what to say next, so he ended up not saying anything. His boyfriend sighed heavily. One of the girls next to him snickered and rolled her eyes._

_“Look, I’m going to just lay this out. Lord knows I don’t want to spend anymore time with you than I already have.”_

_Sungwoon heard nothing but buzzing in his ears. He feels the urge to just get up and leave, to not hear whatever is going to come out of his boyfriend’s mouth next. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he also thinks he does, almost, and just doesn’t want to know._

_“My friends here bet that you’re a fucking fag. They dared me to get to know you to find out, and well, I love a challenge. Not that you made it very challenging. God, do you drool over every guy you see like that?” He laughed mockingly. “Anyway, then they upped the dare and said they’d give me their allowance for the next month if I’d just pretend to date you for a little while. Honestly, it almost wasn’t worth it. That time you tried to kiss me made me almost throw up in my mouth. But it’s over now. Goodbye, Sungwoon.”_

_He turned to leave, his friends with him, and Sungwoon felt all the shame and anxiety in him swirl and transform into a kind of rage he didn’t think he’d ever felt before. He wanted to run after him, yell, scream, punch him straight in that stupid smile he’d once thought was handsome. He didn't realise he actually aid the last part until he came to, knuckles aching and words he couldn’t quite make out being screamed in his face. The only part he caught was “You’ll pay for this. You had to flaunt your gay shit everywhere, if you’d just kept it to yourself then none of this ever would have happened. Well, now everyone will know.”_

  


_By the time Sungwoon went to school on Monday, everyone knew. Even people who probably hadn’t known more than his name before now knew he liked boys. He didn’t expect it to hurt so much. He’d never been hiding. He’d never been afraid of having people know. He still wasn’t afraid. It turned out most students thought that what had been done to Sungwoon was awful, or at least a bit too far for a joke. Some said a few things that annoyed him, sure, but they weren’t outright intending to be hurtful. People were on his side. But the fact that he hadn’t been able to tell them himself felt like something had been stolen from him. The fact that the one person he’d met who he thought was actually like him turned out to just be playing a cruel joke made him feel more alone than he ever had, despite all the people who said they were standing by him._

 

 

There’s a warm hand placed over where his own is gripping tightly onto the seat and he feels himself relax. He looks up into the eyes of Yoon Jisung, eyes that somehow emanate pure comfort.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Jisung says softly. Sometimes he forgets that Jisung knows his life so deeply. It had seemed inconsequential, in the moment, that one small part of his past compared to years of a good upbringing and friends and achievements. Jisung had never brought that part of his past up, and while he’d brought it up himself no one knew how sometimes it still affected him so deeply. He finds himself glad that someone does.

It turns out Eunki had heard the couple from where he was cleaning a table nearby and he was now ushering them off the premises.

“Homophobia? In my good gay milkshake café? I think the fuck not,” He says, practically pushing them out the door.

When the couple is removed, probably to never come back again, Eunki shoots them an apologetic smile and Sunghyuk sends over a free ice-cream for them to share. It’s more than is necessary really, other places probably wouldn’t have intervened at all. But it’s nice, and the conversation turns to other things, and the ice-cream is delicious and not even too cold in this weather with the cafe’s generous central heating. His phone buzzes with a message from Taehyun asking about his day.

It all serves to remind Sungwoon he’s not alone anymore.

 

* * *

 

Jihoon sits in his room and wonders if he’s doing this right. It’s been over a week since Woojin moved in, and he doesn’t feel like he’s getting anywhere. After a while, he stopped holding the other boy at arms length quite as much as he had been before, both in pursuit of his research and because he knew that he was making things awkward for everyone else, which despite everything is the last thing he wants. Meaning he’d spoken perhaps a few sentences to Woojin. It’s something.

But it isn’t. Because he doesn’t feel like he’s moving forward. It has been weeks, and he still has no idea how he feels about Park Woojin, except that he doesn’t trust him.

Woojin is surprisingly indecipherable and keeps his thoughts and his past to himself. At least, that’s how he is around Jihoon. As far as he can tell, no one else is having the same problems, or they just don’t care.

They have training in a few minutes, and Jihoon resolves to himself that today he’s going to get somewhere.

Training starts as normal. When Woojin walks in this time, he isn’t sticking to Jisung’s side. Everything about him is more comfortable, more confident. He goes over to the treadmills and starts to run. Jihoon watches him, once again wary and begrudgingly impressed. When Woojin gets off the treadmill (not even short for breath, Jihoon notes.) Jihoon goes over to him.

“Spar with me,” Jihoon says, without any preamble.

“Uhhh-” Woojin doesn’t really look at him. That’s something he’s noticed, that he hasn’t made eye contact with him since the last time they were in this room, even during the brief sentences they’ve spoken to each other. “I’m not very good when it comes to fighting,” He finishes, awkward.

Jihoon smiles, a friendly and easygoing expression he perfected long ago. “Me neither. But you need to learn, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Woojin breathes.

“Let’s go, then.” Jihoon’s smile doesn’t falter.

They position themselves in the middle of the room, as far from everyone else as they can be while still in the room. Jihoon knows that they all moved back, curious about what’s going on and not wanting to get in the way.

They just stand for a moment, no one moves. Reading Woojin’s body language, he’s sure that the other boy isn’t going to make the first move. Jihoon mentally takes note of that before calculating what he should do himself.

He throws an upper-cut at Woojin’s jaw. To his surprise, Woojin ducks out of the way even though it seemed like he wasn’t even looking at Jihoon.

“You’re on your guard, that’s good,” Jihoon says. It is, on the off chance he’s not going to betray them. Knowing when someone's about to swing at you was the biggest struggle to learn for people who aren’t used to having to constantly watch their surroundings. He’s never had that problem.

  


_Jihoon wrapped himself up in the coat. It was a little too big for him, but that’s a risk you have to deal with when you take your coat from a motel’s lost and found despite never having lost it. At least this place had something that could convincingly be his. The last two times he’d managed to scrape the money to stay somewhere with a bed the only things people had lost were a wallet (he’d taken it as his, even though all it had in it was a few crumpled bills, a baggy of white powder, and some condoms. He’d thrown the condoms out and sold the baggy of white powder on the street because what use did a twelve-year-old have with either of those things.) and a bunch of random junk._

_He was out of money again. He normally wouldn’t splurge so much on places to stay, but recently a lot of the abandoned buildings in the area had been taken over by other people and he was still looking for a new place where he could sleep without having to worry about the small amount of stuff he carried around with him being taken while he rested._

_He made a plan. Like all plans he made, it was in his head, because he didn’t have a pen or paper or anything else he could write things down with. He’d get some money, he’d search the area, he’d either find a free place to sleep or wouldn’t and he’d be prepared for both possibilities._

_Jihoon knew there were multiple ways to make money on the street. One, the most common, was begging. Jihoon wasn’t above begging, but it was easier when he was smaller and cuter and could pretend he had a family out there somewhere he needed to get home to. Another was stealing, another thing Jihoon wasn’t above, but when he got caught it was never fun so he tried not to resort to it too often. There were ways he’d heard of that Jihoon didn’t even want to think of. Last year, he’d found his way._

_He’d found a few pieces of wood that he’d managed to construct into a table on the side of a fairly busy street. So far, it hadn’t been taken away or destroyed, but he was always expecting it to be. Somehow, he’d ended up with a pack of cards. He couldn’t remember where he’d gotten them from, but they were always with him._

_A table, a pack of cards, and himself, that’s all he needed._

_Gambling was easy when you were a cute kid with a soft face and when, most of the time, barring the times that whatever it was he was doing went wrong, he could make the game come out in his favour._

_Sometimes, the game turning out in his favour didn’t actually turn out in his favour at all._

_“This game is fucking rigged,” A man spat, staring at the joker card on the table. “I’m not giving you my money.”_

_“We made a bet, and you lost,” Jihoon explained calmly. “It’s not rigged, just a game of probability.” A rigged game of probability._

_“Nah, you made me lose somehow. I know it.” The man was getting aggressive now, leaning over the table into Jihoon’s space. “Tell me what you did.”_

_“I didn’t do anything!” Jihoon protested. Technically, he didn’t. There was no sleight of hand or fake cards, just his decision that he should be the winner._

_Jihoon felt the punch before he saw it. He’d never been punched before. It hurt more than he expected, in fact, he was worried that his nose could be broken. He could smell the metallic tang of blood dripping out of it. Jihoon watched the man walk away, still shocked over what happened. He had to go to the hospital that night, and there were too many questions about what happened and where he lived and why his family weren't with him._

_He decided that he’ll never let himself get caught off-guard again._

  


Woojin doesn’t say anything. He’s still, really. Jihoon can’t really see his face but it doesn’t seem like he’s preparing to move.

Jihoon needs more than this.

“You have to hit me back, you know,” Jihoon knows his friendly facade is starting to drop. He’s taunting now. But if it works, then it works.

“I’ve heard that’s how a fight works, yeah,” Woojin says, then, he finally does it.

Jihoon blocks.

They exchange a few more punches, each one being dodged or blocked.

When Woojin’s fist comes flying at his face, he grabs it and doesn’t let go. They’re locked like that, and slowly, carefully, Woojin’s eyes finally meet his.

Something in the air sparks. Something in _Jihoon_ sparks.

Jihoon is careful, he’s always been careful, but suddenly his body is moving more on instinct than thought. He doesn’t even comprehend what hits he lands or misses, or how many times he gets hit himself. The pain barely registers. He feels consumed, but he doesn’t know by what.

He realises he’s in an advantageous position to grab Woojin in a headlock and goes for it, only to find his arms clinging to thin air and his feet stumbling.

Woojin is on the other side of the mat behind him.

“You’re not allowed to do that,” Jihoon breathes harshly.

Woojin doesn’t seem apologetic. “I know what I’m doing. I know how to use my powers, unlike some people,” His eyes are burning, and Jihoon is almost surprised by angry he actually seems to be.

Jihoon tries to shove the rage burning up in him down. He doesn’t want it to show on his face, doesn’t want Woojin to know that he’s gotten to him. He doesn’t know if he succeeds, and that’s concerning enough on it’s own.

Jihoon knows this is a risk, and despite the anger and scary amount of _whatever this is_ clouding his judgement, he calculates. If this goes wrong, it won’t hurt anyone, not even Woojin. He’s pretty sure.

Jihoon doesn’t have to actually say anything out loud for his powers to work. It’s just helpful when he’s practicing with Jisung for Jisung to know what he’s intending to do. In a real situation, though, it gives him the element of surprise if he doesn’t do anything.

Well, maybe he can do something, just to get a little bit of that rage out of his system and make Woojin angrier instead.

He steadies his gaze on Woojin, still standing where he’d ran off to, and thinks.

‘It’s 100% likely that I have him a headlock right now,’ he thinks to himself. Then, before anything can happen, he winks at Woojin, taunting him again.

He has Woojin in his arms by the neck. The other boy freezes, clearly confused by whatever just happened, before starting to struggle against Jihoon’s hold. Jihoon lets him go. Woojin rights himself. There’s a fire in Woojin’s eyes but it’s dimming. There’s something diluting it and Jihoon doesn’t know what it is. Woojin is once again unreadable, and it only serves to make Jihoon angrier.

“You really just think you’re an all-powerful super kid, don’t you?” Woojin says.

Jihoon doesn’t tell him that he’s both right and wrong. That he knows rather than thinks he’s powerful. That he doesn’t know how powerful he is. That just because he knows this doesn’t mean it’s something he’s proud of. That his powers are a complicated force that he isn’t sure are for better or for worse. Woojin can never know that much about him.

All he says is “What’s your problem with me, exactly, Woojin?”

Woojin’s eyes are still locked with his, have been this whole time. That spark never left. It is still thrumming through him, making him emotional and obvious in the middle of this room with Woojin right in front of him. He’s pretty sure Woojin can feel it too. In the back of his mind he’s telling himself to stop this, to shut down whatever this was inside of him and pretend everything is normal. But he can’t.

“My problem? What’s your problem with me?” Woojin exclaims. “You started all of...whatever this is!”

Jihoon seethes.

He doesn’t get time to even think of what he’s going to say before he’s being grabbed, albeit gently, by the arms. It’s only then he realises that the space between him and Woojin has been lessening as they talk and now they’re not even an arms length away from each other, as if they were about to fight or...well, it probably looked as if they were about to fight. That’s probably why his arms are being held by who he notices is Jisung, who’s stepped between the two of them.

“This stops here,” Jisung says firmly. “Training is ending early today. Go back to your rooms. Take some deep breaths. If you have issues then come to me.”

He leaves no room for argument. Everyone starts to leave, glancing sideways at Jihoon and Woojin as they do so. Jihoon feels….disoriented. The reality of the last few minutes (was it really only minutes?)  hits him and suddenly he’s not sure of anything. He feels confused. He feels _lost_.

“Jisung?” He says quietly, after checking that almost everyone else, and especially Woojin, has left the room. “Is it okay if I stay in here for a little while?”

Jihoon likes this room. It’s a good place to think. It’s spacious and impersonal in a way that doesn’t distract him. He doesn’t need any distractions right now.

“That’s fine,” Jisung says. “Would you like me to stay with you?”

Jihoon normally prefers to think alone. He needs to be alone, sometimes. He needs a space where he doesn’t feel like he has to keep up some kind of act, whatever that act may be. He needs a space where there aren’t other people to worry about and he can just be. But before Woojin he had allowed himself to get more comfortable around them. To not watch and act and just be. Right now, he thinks he needs some kind of company. Someone to be there so he doesn’t mess up more than he feels like he already has. Jisung’s presence would stop anything bad happening, because Jihoon wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him.

“Yes, please,” Jihoon says. Jisung wraps his arms around him, soft, comforting, confining the storm inside him.

Jihoon has never felt so turbulent, not even when his powers go wrong. It was like his body had took on a mind of its own. He hadn’t thought about what he was doing, he just did it.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Jisung asks softly.

Jihoon doesn’t answer immediately, so Jisung presses on.

“Come on, tell me what’s up with you. I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Something about him makes me lose control,” Jihoon says slowly, thoughtfully, realising this fact as he says it.

Jihoon doesn’t lose control. He needs to be in control to function. He needs to be in control to be safe. He knows he doesn’t trust Woojin, but he doesn’t trust a lot of people and it’s never made him like this before. Why is it that Park Woojin made him feel this way? And why….why does he like it?

He hates not being in control. So why does he not feel that way when it’s about Woojin? Why did that spark make him feel so free and wild and purely _good?_ He thinks maybe that’s what scares him most, or maybe what scares him most is that he wants to feel it again.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re fucked, man.”

“Wow thanks. I never would have been able to figure that out without your amazing mind helping me.” Jaehwan rolls his eyes.

“Well, if you wanted real help why didn’t you ask someone who, I don’t know, isn’t me!”

Jaehwan groans. He probably should have known that ending up in Sungwoon’s room wasn’t going to get him any help. He isn’t even sure why he came over, just that he came blustering through the door while Sungwoon did homework until the other boy gave up and sat with him on the bed.

But he needed someone to talk to, and it just so happened that Sungwoon is the only person who knows about his….situation. He can’t even remember how Sungwoon found out about his crushes (alcohol? it was probably alcohol.) but since he knows Jaehwan thinks it’s his right to go to his friend and complain.

“Leave me alone. I’m depressed. And I’m gonna eat the packet of sour patch kids you have hidden in the bottom drawer.”

Sungwoon just sighs.

“Maybe you just need some space. You know, spend some time away from them and you’ll get over the whole thing?” Sungwoon says, clearly just shooting in the dark.

Jaehwan tried that. He spent almost a week curled up alone in his apartment with his guitar. He hadn’t come over, he hadn’t called or text, he’d all but disappeared. He convinced himself that it would get rid of those pesky feelings that he apparently felt. Then he’d gotten a text from Daniel saying both him and Seongwoo wanted to see him, just him, without the rest of their friends around, and his stupid, traitorous heart had wanted it. He hadn’t been able to help but say yes, because apparently he just loves pain and suffering.

Jaehwan just groans again, this time with a mouth full of sour patch kids.

“I have a date I need to go on. Get out of my room,” Sungwoon says.

“Yeah, we get it Sungwoon, you have a boyfriend, you go on dates with him, the boy you like doesn’t already have a boyfriend and if he did you wouldn’t have feelings for said boyfriend,” Jaehwan says dramatically.

“Fine, stay. Just don’t eat all my snacks while I’m out.”

Jaehwan’s eyes widen. “You have more snacks?”

Sungwoon slams the door on his way out.

Jaehwan is left alone then, which is the opposite of the reason he came here in the first place. He finishes the bag of sour patch kids and then decides to go looking for the other snacks Sungwoon mentioned, more for something to do than him actually being particularly hungry. He finds a package of oreos stuffed in the bookshelf and a packet of chips under the bed before he gets bored. He leaves what he found as well as the empty candy packet on Sungwoon’s bed before leaving the room.

He thinks he should maybe just go home. Or go out to some bar where nobody knows him. He hasn’t decided which sounds more appealing yet.

“Hey, Jaehwan!” Seongwoo gets his attention as he’s sneaking past the living room.

“Hi, Seongwoo.” Jaehwan has to force himself not to sigh as he says it. Why can’t anything ever just go to plan?

“Where are you headed?” Seongwoo asks.

“No idea,” Jaehwan answers honestly.

“Well, me and Daniel were just about to head out if you wanna come?” Seongwoo offers.

Jaehwan wants to say no. He does. He knows that his crushes aren’t going to get him anywhere. Seongwoo and Daniel are happy together and the last thing they need is a guy trying to get between their relationship. A guy who doesn’t have the money they have, and doesn’t have a flawless personality, and doesn’t think he’s bad looking but thinks he’s nothing compared to them.

They’re perfect, and he’s so far from it.

And amongst his other flaws, he’s selfish.

“Sure,” He says.

He tells himself that they are his friends first and foremost. It’s not wrong to want to spend time with your friends. And they are his friends. They’re two of his best friends, they mean the world to him, just like everyone else in this house, even if he doesn’t show it much. So it’s not wrong to want to spend time with them, even if he knows it will do no good to him in the long-term.

That’s all true, so why does it feel like a lie?

Seongwoo smiles at him, something so genuine, and if it’s all a lie then it’s the most beautiful lie he’s ever told.

Seongwoo collects Daniel and they let themselves into Seongwoo’s car. Jaehwan takes the back this time, because that’s what he should do. The passenger seat is reserved for the drivers boyfriend, which is not him.

They look good together, in the front. Seongwoo put on the radio, and it’s playing some overproduced pop hit that’s surprisingly good. Seongwoo and Daniel are singing along. They dance as well as they can confined to their seats and it’s kind of a mess. Jaehwan finds himself endeared by it and that makes him feel like banging his head on a wall to knock some sense into himself because what the hell? He does not get endeared, especially not by something that’s objectively stupid and embarrassing.

“Where do you guys wanna go?” Seongwoo asks suddenly. Jaehwan can’t believe that he’s been driving for like two minutes now without realising he isn’t heading in any particular direction.

Daniel and Seongwoo start listing off places he’s never heard of. Jaehwan’s sure they’re all good, but tonight he feels like doing something different. He doesn’t know why, maybe it’s because he wants to see what they’re like when they’re not in their own environment, how they react to the life he lives instead of the life filled with money and privilege and expensive places. Maybe he wants to know if they’re willing to be part of his world, or if they’d scorn at it and he can finally find a reason not to like them that actually works.

Jaehwan lists off some directions and, surprisingly, Seongwoo follows without question.

Jaehwan can’t see their expressions when they pull up in front for the tiny excuse for a restaurant; well, really it’s a street stall. There’s a sign and a few stools out the front, but that’s all that signifies it as somewhere that sells food.

The point is, it’s cheap.

Jaehwan actually thinks it’s quite pretty around here. It’s a skinny street, kind of well hidden from the rest of the area. There’s a lot of little stalls like this one. Some sell food, some sell handcrafted items, some sell things he’s not even sure of. They’re all bright colours in the dark street lit up by the fairy-lights strung between the stalls. He doesn’t expect Daniel and Seongwoo to think  the same, but to his surprise they both have bright eyes and smiles on their faces as they look around the area waiting for their food to be cooked.

The bowls they’re served are hot and their familiar smell comforts Jaehwan. He relaxes a bit, calming the need to watch the other two men and enjoying his food instead. He still steals glances though, and the sight almost doesn’t feel real. Daniel and Seongwoo have been engraved into his life for a long time, as has everyone else, but this feels different. He’s never took anyone else to this place before, not out of any kind of secrecy or wanting to keep it to himself, but rather because he doesn’t think most of them would find any enjoyment in a place so simple. It’s discomfiting, to see their smiles, to hear them praising the food and atmosphere here, he ends up still watching them until they all finished eating, but for a different reason this time.

“What now, Jaehwan?” Seongwoo asks him.

It occurs to him that since he's the one who brought them here, he’s the one in charge of the decisions for now. The times they’ve been alone together he’s felt like he’s the one who follows them, just grateful for their presence, because he’s pathetic. He enjoys it, being the one in charge for now.

“Anyone want a drink?” Jaehwan asks.

He doesn’t frequent bars that could be considered good or classy. In fact, the only time he’s been to a bar like that is when he’s visited Seongwoo’s workplace and bothered him for a few free drinks. He doesn’t take them anywhere awful, just the kind of place with strobe lights, a bad DJ, and people practically getting it on on the dancefloor. Really, it isn’t so different from where Seongwoo works, just with less fancy drinks and stylish decor. Money may change people, but drunk people were another story.

Jaehwan has a few talents in life, music is one, holding his alcohol is another. Daniel isn’t a bad drinker either. Seongwoo...was surprisingly lightweight. They’ve had more than a few drinks by now, though, and it’s hitting all three of them. A few moments ago Daniel had excitedly wandered off to the dancefloor when a song Jaehwan couldn’t hear over his yelling had come on. Jaehwan and Seongwoo are sat at the bar, just the two of them and the other people hanging around waiting to get served. Jaehwan isn’t even doing anything, just sitting and drinking his beer. but somehow he’s having the time of his life. Joy is literally coursing through him and he can’t keep a smile off his face. The fact he’s in a shitty bar, listening to shitty music, with the two people he may or may not genuinely like who definitely don’t like him back doesn’t serve to put a dampener on his mood but instead enhances it. Jaehwan knows he’s drank quite a bit, but he also knows this isn’t what he’s usually like when he’s drunk. Seongwoo has a smile on his face too, Jaehwan sees when he looks at his profile. Something occurs to him.

“Are you doing this?” He asks.

Seongwoo turns to him and his smile drops. Jaehwan feels his own elation dim too.

“I’m sorry. It gets hard to control when I’ve been drinking,” Seongwoo says. He seems genuinely apologetic. More apologetic than Jaehwan has ever seen him.

“Oh, It’s okay,” Jaehwan says. He doesn’t like how genuinely disturbed Seongwoo looks. Besides, it’s not like a bit of extra happiness is a bad thing.

“I...this doesn’t happen when I’m not drunk. I wouldn’t control your mood just for the hell of it,” Seongwoo says firmly.

Jaehwan is about to reply when Seongwoo continues speaking. He’s more than a little tipsy, clearly. Whatever it is he wants to say, it seems like it’s something that may have been bothering him for a while. That’s the way a lot of drunk conversations end up.

“When Daniel first realised he liked me, he didn’t know what my powers were. He knew about powers and knew he had them, but I was clueless and since my power is nothing...physical. It took us a while to work it out. By the time we did, we were already dating. It had already took Daniel a long time to accept that he liked me.” Seongwoo looks like there’s more he wants to say to that last part, but he cuts himself off. Jaehwan guesses whatever it is, it’s not his story to tell. “When we figured it out...he got so paranoid. He started to think, in some part of his mind, that I _forced_ him to love me.”

Jaehwan can feel how disgusted and upset Seongwoo is by the mere memory of this. It’s not a story he’s heard before, and he almost can’t believe it happened. Daniel and Seongwoo are in love, real love, he knows this better than anyone who isn’t the two of them themselves. In his mind, they’ve always been the way they are now. They never argue, not for real. Jaehwan can’t imagine a world where they don’t love each other (and he can’t imagine a world where he doesn’t love them, his dumb, traitorous mind thinks.)

Jaehwan doesn’t know what to say. Being drunk just makes him even more blunt than usual. He doesn’t think he’s ever reached the point where the alcohol makes him spill his secrets and feelings to anyone who will listen. He doesn’t want to fuck this up by saying something unwanted, though. Seongwoo is telling him something that’s clearly personal. This is obviously a painful memory for him, and even though Jaehwan is missing some details that Seongwoo is just sober enough not to tell him or just drunk enough to leave out, he can understand why.

His eyes flit over to Daniel on the dancefloor. It’s not hard to find him, even among all the people, not for Jaehwan. He doesn’t look like he belongs on the strobe-lighted dance floor, but at the same time he looks like he does. He’s dancing, and smiling, and Jaehwan knows he’s not the only person looking at him. He doesn’t turn back to Seongwoo as he asks the question plaguing his mind.

“He doesn’t think that anymore, right?”

“No, this was a long, long time ago.” Seongwoo shakes his head, and though there’s still pain in his expression there’s something sentimental and fond too. “I’m just telling you this because...before I knew that this was a power I don’t doubt I accidentally used it on a lot of people without realising. Even after I realised, I’m not sure that I wouldn’t have used it on people whenever it was convenient if I hadn’t seen the pain the very idea of me doing that put Daniel through. He apologised to me after, saying that what I had as a power wasn’t my fault and what he did wasn’t fair, but despite how much it hurt it taught me something. Whatever you may...feel...I just want you to know that it’s entirely your own feelings.”

Jaehwan’s mind may be a little slow with alcohol, but those words make him run cold. This feels like something much deeper than Seongwoo accidentally making him happy for a few moments. The way he’d said it almost makes it sound like he _knows_. Jaehwan shakes the thought off, though there’s a niggling at the back of his mind trying to remind him of something. Seongwoo can’t know, he just can’t, because then Jaehwan doesn’t know what that means and it adds so many more questions to a complicated situation he’s already trying to pretend to no avail doesn’t exist.

Anyway, this isn’t about him right now.

“I never thought that, honestly,” Jaehwan tells Seongwoo. He doesn’t know what that says about what he feels, if he’s confirming something for Seongwoo or if he has another kind of paranoia in his mind. “I trust you. Daniel trusts you. We all do.”

Seongwoo smiles at him then.

Things go back to normal in a second. Jaehwan now knows something about Seongwoo that he hadn’t known before, and he isn’t sure how that fact settles with him. It’s not how he’d expected this evening to end up. He only hopes that when the morning comes Seongwoo doesn’t regret telling him.

Not long later, Daniel comes back from the dancefloor, still grinning widely. He swings his arms over both Seongwoo and Jaehwan’s shoulders as he leans over to order himself another drink Then he plants a drunk kiss on Seongwoo’s lips, and an even drunker one on Jaehwan’s cheek.

Jaehwan realises, under the strobe lights, with alcohol running through his veins, that no matter how much he tries there’s no denying or turning back on what he feels.


	6. Chapter 6

Jisung stares at the piece of paper in his hand. It’s taken time, but here it is, a warrant for Ahn Hyungseob’s arrest. Jisung is unofficially the head officer on this case, by virtue of being the one to bring Hyungseob to the police’s attention, so despite not being the one who got the warrant it seems someone had decided the best course of action was to leave it on his desk anyway.

Looking at it, he isn’t sure how to feel. This piece of paper, flimsy, easy to lose or destroy, controls a teenage boys future. It’s incredible and ridiculous how something, how _he_ , can do this to someone.

It’s moments like this that he wonders if he’s doing the right thing after all.

But he has to be, he tells himself, this has to be the right thing...hasn’t it?

They have Hyungseob’s address, and the warrant, Jisung could bring it to the captain’s and officer Jeong’s attention and the two of them could go there now and arrest him. There’s something else that he wants to do first though. Hyungseob is not the only person involved in this case, and he’s not the person that Jisung is most worried about.

He doesn’t tell the captain or his partner where he’s going. He doesn’t think they’d stop him, what he’s doing can only be helpful to the investigation, but there’s something about this case that feels personal to him. He finds that it’s been on his mind since practically the first moment he stepped into that hospital room; it’s not only when he’s working that he finds himself thinking about it. No matter where he is or what he’s doing, his thoughts seem to turn to Hyungseob and this case, they niggle in the back of his mind until they grow and take over to the point he’s finding it hard to focus on other things; it’s almost obsessive, he knows. He hates it, he wants this over with so everyone can be happy or behind bars where they belong and Jisung’s mind will hopefully be free again.

He doesn’t ask for a nurse to lead him to the room this time. The number is ingrained in his brain. Since he talked to no one beforehand, he’s surprised to walk in and find Euiwoong sitting up in bed, still looking rough but very clearly awake. Jisung doesn’t know why he expected him to be asleep, it’s not as if he’s a coma patient, but that sleeping boy was the only image of Euiwoong that Jisung’s ever had.

“Hello?” Euiwoong says. His voice is rough and scratchy. Jisung isn’t surprised what with the bruising on his throat and the fact he probably hasn’t needed to speak much while stuck in this room.

“Hello. I’m officer Yoon Jisung. I came to ask you a few questions about what happened to you, if that’s okay?” That’s not quite true. He hadn’t actually known why he was visiting when he left the station, other than that it felt like something he should do. Now that he’s here, he might as well ask Euiwoong about the case. Since Euiwoong was the victim, it was something that was going to have to happen before they could go forward with it anyway. If Euiwoong wanted to go forward with it all, he could always choose not to press charges.

Jisung wonders if he would press charges in Euiwoong’s position. If it was one of his best friends and someone he was possibly in love with who hurt him, would he turn them over to the police? He realises the answer quickly, and hopes that Euiwoong is stronger than he is. Jisung wants to see Hyungseob—  _the person who did this_ , his brain corrects— they don’t know that it was definitely Hyungseob...but the more he’s thought about it the more he’s become convinced that Hyungseob is guilty. The only thing that could change his mind at this point is Euiwoong saying with certainty that it was someone else who did this to him. Part of Jisung is hoping he will, and part of him is already too invested in taking Hyungseob down for this crime. He doesn’t know which part is stronger.

“You can ask, but I don’t think I’ll be much help to you,” Euiwoong says, staring down at his blanket-covered lap with a frown.

Jisung raises his eyebrows. “And why is that?”

“The thing is, officer, I don’t remember anything from that night.”

Euiwoong tells him that he can’t remember the entire day of the incident. He remembers going to bed the night before, and then there’s just a blackness where there should be a whole day he apparently lived and experienced. Euiwoong says that the doctors think that the blow to his head could be responsible for his memory loss.

“Or it could be trauma,” He continues, despondent. “That can happen. I’ve read about it before.. You go through a traumatic incident and your brain blocks it out to protect you.”

“You don’t seem to like that idea.” Jisung frowns.

“I don’t think it’s very fair, is all. I woke up and everyone treats me like I’ve been through something horrible, but I don’t even remember it. I’d rather remember it so that I could actually be helpful, I feel useless just sitting here while nurses and doctors and my parents all fuss over me.”

“They only fuss because they care about you. You can still be helpful, Euiwoong. I still have a few questions to ask you, even if you can’t remember. Is that okay?”

Euiwoong agrees with a tiny smile and Jisung pulls up another rickety plastic chair so he can sit next to the bed rather than stand over Euiwoong the whole time. Hopefully the process will be less intimidating that way, and he feels like he’s going to sit down for this anyway.

“Is there anyone you think could have done this to you?”

Euiwoong laughs darkly, then starts coughing, the laughter clearly harsh on his throat. “I don’t exactly walk around and think about who may want to beat me up.” He says once the coughing subsides. “I didn’t think there was anyone who would want to do this to another person. I mean, I knew that it happened. But it’s one of those things you always think happens to other people. It could never happen to _you_. But I guess to everyone else, you are one of those other people.”

Jisung thinks that Euiwoong seems like a smart kid. He remembers Hyungseob saying that Euiwoong is the student body president and getting to know him now he can’t say that he’s surprised. It eases Jisung’s mind a bit, to learn more about him. Euiwoong is a real person, with his own traits and habits and loved ones. He isn’t any of the kids Jisung has in his life, that doesn’t want make Jisung want to help him any less but he’s at least hoping it can make him a little more objective about the situation, like he should be (though he thinks maybe he’s too invested as it is and there’s no turning back, and he doesn’t even know why since as awful as this case is, it’s not the worst thing he’s seen.)

“So there’s no one you think could have done this? No one you’d even consider?”

“Well…” Euiwoong starts. His eyebrows furrow and he looks like he doesn’t know what he’s thinking. “ I-”

“You can say anything and anyone that comes to mind, Euiwoong.” Jisung assures him. “Whatever it is you’re worried about, we won’t let it happen.”

Euiwoong takes a deep breath. His eyebrows furrow more, his lips are pursed in concentration. Jisung wonders what’s going on in his head.

“I….I don’t think he could have done this, but somehow I do at the same time. Does that make sense?” Euiwoong asks.

“Sure.” Jisung nods.

“A little before this happened, something happened between me and my...friend...Hyungseob. We had a...disagreement.” Jisung doesn’t interrupt him to say he’s already heard the story. He needs to hear both sides, and Euiwoong might start to worry if he knows Jisung has already heard one version of what happened.

Euiwoong seems to be struggling to continue. Jisung doesn’t want to push him, he knows that leading the witness (or in this case the victim with memory-loss) is bad for everyone involved, but he doesn’t like seeing Euiwoong struggle, and he has to know himself.

“Do you think he could have done this to you?” Jisung asks. He knows he _should_ sound formal. He knows he actually sounds desperate.

Euiwoong frowns again. This time he thinks that he recognises the look. It looks like Euiwoong is trying to remember something.

“I don’t know,” Euiwoong finally sighs.

Jisung lets out the breath he’d been holding.

“I thought we were best friends, no matter what. But looking back, I just don’t know. I think...maybe he’s different than I thought.”

Jisung has a lot more questions, really. But a lot of them probably aren’t his place. It’s not even really his place to be conducting this interview without Kahi’s express permission. He can’t let whatever personal feelings he has interfere with his work. He’s not in that deep...or at least he hopes he isn’t.

“Thank you, Euiwoong. You’ve been very helpful.” Jisung smiles at him.

Euiwoong struggles to smile back, clearly still deep in thought.

“I’m going to leave you my number. Please call me if you need anything.”

With that he leaves the hospital. He doesn’t know what to do with what he’s learned. No one expected that Euiwoong would not remember anything about that night. The most reliable source of information they had is gone, just like that.

Euiwoong said, albeit a little regretful and a little unsure, that he thought maybe Hyungseob had done this. Hyungseob is his best friend, and the boy he has feelings for, Jisung doesn’t think he’d ever say that if he didn’t mean it. But without Euiwoong actually having any memory of it how well would it hold up in court? Would it actually mean anything for the investigation at all?

Jisung should know this. He did his academy training, and he more than passed, but this case is unusual for him, and the entire thing is throwing him through a loop.

He’s never been a big fan of driving. It’s not something he particularly enjoys, at the worst of times it just annoys him. He only really does it because it’s practically a necessity for his job. But today, he drives. He drives purely because he needs more time. He needs some time where he doesn’t have to be the Jisung who knows what he’s doing all the time. Where he doesn’t have cases to sort through and decisions to make. He needs some time with his friends, with the ten boys who he knows will be there for him just as much as he’s there for them. That’s not an option, he can’t just go home in the middle of the workday. He could phone, but all of this is too much to go through in one mere phone call. Still, he wants to hear their voices.

He parks up and he’s not entirely sure where he is, but apparently he’s been driving for longer than he thought. He’s by a river. He lived here his whole life and he didn’t even know that there are rivers in the less built-up areas like this one. Jisung hasn’t been to the countryside since he was a child, and though he knows he’s still in the city- he can see it if he looks over the water- it’s almost like being there again. The first few times his parents dragged him on their outings to their house in the country was a bore to him, even as an easily-entertained child. But after his family and Daniel’s made friends they would often take those trips together. Daniel’s presence gave something once dull a sense of fun and adventure that could only happen with two best friends in an unfamiliar environment. They would run around and skip rocks over the lakes and get their fancy clothes dirty until they came home and their parents yelled at them for it but they were too tired and happy to care.

He gets out of the car and sits on the hood, then picks up his phone and presses call.

“Jisung?”

“Daniel,” Jisung breathes into the speaker.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“A lot,” Jisung says honestly. “But mostly I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Well, here I am,” Daniel says.

And like that, for a little while, it’s easy again. Jisung is a child and it’s him and his best friend against their families and the rest of the world. Cuts and bruises only exist from falling from trees or off their bikes, not from fists and weapons and hate. Their only responsibility is to each other, not to try and keep the rest of the world afloat though sometimes it seems intent on sinking.

They talk and talk. Jisung realises after he finally brings himself to hang up that he can’t even remember what they talked about, really, but he figures it doesn’t matter when it feels like the weight on his shoulders has finally lessened.

He’s so thankful that he has Daniel in his life. He honestly isn’t sure he would be where or he is now if he and Daniel hadn’t met that day.

 

_”Jisung, come here for a moment would you, son?”_

_Jisung placed the book he was reading down on the sofa, not bothering to save his place. He’d read most of the books in the house by now, including that one. He’d have to ask one of his parents to buy him more soon or he’d end up even more bored than he already was. His father hadn’t mentioned where he was when he’d shouted to Jisung, but he was probably in the study. He was almost always in the study, after all._

_He found his father hunched over the desk. He was wearing his reading glasses, something he only did when he was “working”. Jisung couldn’t see whatever it was his father was reading but he already knew he had no interest in it._

_“Yes, father?”_

_His father looked over at him, startled. Jisung wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already forgotten he’d called Jisung here. He was more focused on his work than he ever was on Jisung._

_“Son, come here. You’re going to be taking over the family business someday, so it’s about time you learn how it works.” His dad waved his hand to summon Jisung closer._

_Jisung slowly dragged his feet closer. He doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t want to learn how it works, he doesn’t want to take over his dad’s oil business. He’s tried to say this, in more or less words, but his parents had never listened. He’d given up for now, thinking at least he was only thirteen, his parents couldn’t actually make him get involved yet, but apparently he was wrong. He should have known better, really, perhaps he was just too hopeful._

_“But father-” Jisung began._

_“Ah! I know that it’s a bit early, but it’s never bad to be prepared for your future.”_

_“The thing is-”_

_“I promise that you can get back to whatever it was you were doing soon. You might actually find this quite fun, though!”_

_Jisung gives in. Trying to talk to his father about anything he doesn’t want to hear is like talking to a brick wall. He sat next to his dad on a spare chair and listened to him start to drone on about finances. He only hoped that it would be over soon._

_His father had been talking for an hour, for most of it he’d been zoning in and out but eventually something had caught his attention._

_“Wait, so we have all this money and we just...aren’t using it?” Jisung was looking at the numbers that represented the money that had been in their bank for ages, not as savings or an emergency fund but just simply because they never even got close to using it so it sat gathering dust._

_“Well, yes. We couldn’t possibly spend all the money we have, Jisung. That’s just ridiculous.” His father laughed._

_“But plenty of people have to spend all their money just to get by! We have all this extra and it’s just growing with every paycheck!”_

_“So?” His father asked._

_Jisung could feel himself getting frustrated. He’d always known that they had more money than most people, it was hard to miss even if most of his life was spent lounging around the house because his parents were too busy to spend time with him and no other kids lived in their neighbourhood; he couldn’t even get to know them through school since his parents had decided that a home tutor would be the best option, probably because it meant they wouldn’t have to take time out of their day to take him to and from school. He’d never known they were this rich, though. They had more money than they were using, more money than they could ever use. It wasn’t fair. There were people out there who couldn’t even afford food each day or decent shelter and yet here his family was with so much more than they needed._

_“You could give some of this to charity? It will get used that way, and it would be for a good cause!” Jisung suggested._

_His father looked aghast at the very suggestion. Jisung doesn’t understand why. It’s a good suggestion, isn’t it? It’s not as if that money was going to be used for anything else._

_“Jisung-” His father began. He sounded tired, as if Jisung had said something utterly ridiculous and he can’t believe he had to set his child right about this. “I worked for that money. It’s rightfully mine. Why should I give it away to people who can not be bothered to get up and earn things for themselves?”_

_Jisung didn’t think it was like that at all. He was sure that most of these people couldn’t earn the living they needed for themselves, for whatever reason. He’d seen advertisements on TV for children who were in poverty or people whose homes had been destroyed by natural disasters. They weren’t lazy, they just didn’t have the same luck that his father had had in life._

_“But-” Jisung tried._

_“Don’t argue with me, son. I’m sure you’ll understand when you’re older. I need to finish this now. Go to your room or something. I’ll see you at dinner.”_

_He didn’t bother fighting against the dismissal. If he stayed in that room with his father he’d probably eventually lose his patience and end up saying something that would really make him mad. His parents couldn’t really ground him since he never went anywhere, and they weren’t the type to yell. When they didn’t want to speak to him they did just that and paid even less attention to him than usual. It wasn’t the worst possible outcome, he barely noticed it, but he’d still rather avoid annoying them if he could._

_He chose not to go to his room and instead went outside to the garden. He needed some fresh air. This was where he always went to get away, since it was really the only place he could be outside unless he wanted to wander around the streets with nothing but other affluent houses and judgemental neighbours peeking out their windows, just waiting for him to do something troublesome since he was young and they were all stuck up middle-aged couples who couldn’t stand kids._

_The garden was by far the nicest part of the house. The gardener tended well to the patches of colourful flowers and trees. There was even a small pond with a few koi that swam away whenever he rippled his fingers through the water. There was only a few benches for sitting and his parents had never really set up anything to do out there but it was a peaceful place to sit when he needed to get away because he’d been in the house for days and he was starting to feel trapped and suffocating._

_It was usually quiet out here, except for the wind and the occasional hum of a bird, but as he got further from his house and deeper into the garden he could swear he heard something. It was quiet- at first he mistook it for an insect hidden somewhere or a noise from someone walking past in the street- but it was persistent and after a few moments Jisung found himself curiously moving in the direction that he thought it was coming from._

_He was right by the fence that cordoned off his garden from the little patch of street between his and the house next door when he realised what it was- someone was crying._

_His parents had never explicitly said he couldn’t leave the house without their permission, it hadn’t come up since their neighbourhood was further from any kind of any civilisation than anyone could be bothered to walk. Anyway, it wasn’t as if they’d ever notice if he left for just a few minutes. With this in mind, he found the gate in the fence and left his family’s property for the first time in weeks._

_The street was empty, but the sound was louder now and it was easy to pinpoint that it was coming from his neighbour's garden. That probably meant that he should turn back. If he was caught snooping on someone else's property he might get in actual trouble for the first time, if only because the neighbours turned him over to his parents and insisted they do so._

_He was worried though. Whoever was on the other side of that fence was clearly upset. What if it was an emergency? He shouldn’t just leave them because he was worried he might get in trouble. Maybe he could just peek over the fence quickly and check out what it was. If it was nothing then he’d leave before anyone saw him._

_The fence was tall and he had to pull himself up with his feet dangling off the ground to see over into the garden. At first he didn’t see anything, but the sound of sobbing had only grown louder. After a moment he spotted a boy on the ground. He was so small that Jisung’s eyes had completely missed him the first time he’d scanned the garden. It wasn’t as if he was expecting to find a child. He’d always been the only person younger than their late-twenties in the little of the neighbourhood he’d explored. He briefly remembered his mother mentioning that their next door neighbours were selling the house somewhere in the strained small talk that constituted his family’s dinner conversations a few weeks ago. It seemed like they’d done it and this boy was probably the child of whoever had moved in._

_“What’s wrong?” Jisung asked._

_The boy jumped to his feet, head turning in all directions to find the source of the voice before his gaze landed on Jisung. Now that he was standing Jisung could see that he was definitely a child, and definitely a younger one than Jisung himself. In the back of his mind Jisung thought it would have been nice if someone with a kid close to his own age could have moved in, but that wasn’t a concern right now._

_“Who are you?” The boy asked. He was still sobbing and Jisung could see the tear tracks on his face._

_“I’m Yoon Jisung. I live in the house over there.” He gestured to his house as best as he could while trying to keep his tentative hold on the fence. “Who are you? I haven’t noticed a kid around this neighbourhood.”_

_“I’m Kang Daniel. My mom and dad just moved here. Am I really the only kid here?”_

_Jisung nodded._

_Daniel pouted. His crying had calmed a bit, but now a fresh wave of tears had started to fall._

_“What’s wrong, Daniel?” Jisung asked again._

_“I s-scraped my knee.”_

_Jisung looked down at his leg and noticed the little trickle of blood there. It didn’t seem like a particularly bad injury, but it should still be taken care of._

_“Why don’t you go tell your parents? They can take care of it.” Jisung suggested._

_Daniel shook his head frantically. “I can’t. I’m not s’posed to be playing outside. I just wanted to see the garden! The moving men are still bringing all the boxes in so I was meant to stay in my room but it was super boring!”_

_Jisung still thought that Daniel should tell his parents. Even if he got in trouble, they’d at least know what to do. The younger boy seemed resolute on them not finding out he had been outside, though. Jisung racked his brain for what he should do when he had an idea._

_“Wait there!” He told Daniel, before jumping down and disappearing back behind the fence._

_His parents kept the first-aid kit in the downstairs bathroom. He ran into the house, glad for once that his father was undoubtedly still in his study and his mother was out getting a manicure or her hair done or something else that kept her out of the house until dinner time._

_He speeded back to Daniel’s house and peeked over the fence again, leaving the first-aid kit on the sidewalk so he could pull himself up. Daniel was still where Jisung had left him, and thankfully appeared to have stopped crying._

_“Hey, can I come in?” Jisung asked._

_Daniel hesitated, but eventually nodded. “The gates over there.” He pointed to it with a chubby finger._

_Jisung was both grateful and worried to find it unlocked. He supposed that Daniel’s parents just hadn’t got around to it yet, but they still should. Daniel was just a kid, what if he ran out into the road or someone with worse intentions than Jisung tried to come into the garden? Then again, they didn’t even know that their son was out here apparently._

_He walked over to Daniel and kneeled in front of him, placing the first-aid kit on the ground again._

_“I’m gonna fix this cut, okay?” He explained._

_Daniel nodded, seemingly happier than before._

_Jisung had never done this before. He just tried to follow what his nanny who’d looked after him as a child had done for the very few scrapes and cuts he’d gotten. He located a bottle of disinfectant and poured some on a cotton pad before gently bringing it to the injury on Daniel’s knee._

_“Ow!” Daniel whined._

_“I know that it hurts, but it will make it better in the end. If it gets infected, it will hurt more. ” Jisung explained calmly._

_“I-infected?” Daniel’s face scrunched up at the unfamiliar word._

_“It’s like...a bad thing that happens to cuts if you leave them alone. It will get all gross looking and it can be super dangerous, okay?”_

_Daniel suddenly looked scared, so Jisung reassured him “That won’t happen now that we’ve disinfected it, okay?”_

_Daniel nodded again, seeming relieved._

_“Okay, now i’m just gonna stick a plaster on it.” Jisung explained as he pulled one out of the kit._

_“There, all done.” He smiled at Daniel as he finished patting the plaster down._

_Daniel smiled back at him._

_“I’m gonna go home now. Be careful next time you play outside, okay?”_

_Jisung got up to leave but he was stopped by a small hand grabbing onto his own. He turned back around to find Daniel looking at him with wide-eyes._

_“Jisung?” Daniel asked._

_“Yeah?”_

_“Is there really no other kids around here?”_

_“No. I was the only one until you moved in.”_

_Daniel didn’t say anything for a moment, instead looking down at the ground. “Oh. So am I not gonna make any new friends here, then?”_

_“Well, do you go to school?”_

_Daniel nodded again._

_“I’m sure that you’ll make some friends there, then.” Jisung smiled brightly, hoping that that would make the other boy feel better. He was glad that Daniel had a chance to make friends, it wasn’t fun growing up with no one for company._

_“Okay,” Daniel frowned, looking too deep in thought for a child his age. “I’m gonna live far away from them though…”_

_Daniel looked back up at him suddenly. Instead of an expression of concentration his eyes were now bright and he was smiling. “Will you be my friend too? You’re really nice and you know how to fix scrapes and you live right next door!”_

_Jisung chuckled a little. Daniel’s wide smile that showed off a few missing baby teeth was adorable, as was his apparent admiration of Jisung. Jisung was sure that Daniel would forget all about wanting to be friends when he would go to his first day at his new school and met other kids closer to his own age. Still, he looked so hopeful at the thought of Jisung being his friend that he couldn’t bring himself to turn the kid down now._

_“Sure, Daniel, we can be friends.”_

_“Yay!” Daniel practically screeched. He hugged Jisung, though due to their height difference he was really just wrapping his arms around Jisung’s legs. “We’re gonna be best friends forever!”_

_“Sure, we are.” Jisung said, stroking Daniel’s hair since he can’t really hug back. He didn’t believe what he was saying, didn’t know how long this kid was going to cling to him, but he surprisingly didn’t think he’d mind the younger boys presence for however long he stuck around._

 

Kahi corners him in her office when he gets back to the police station.

“Do you think that the police’s time is your time, officer Yoon?” She asks, sternly. Jisung can’t deny that it’s intimidating.

“Of course not!” He doesn’t want to tell Kahi that he talked with Euiwoong, but he has no choice if he wants to get out of her office alive. “I was talking to Lee Euiwoong.”

Kahi’s face is blank of any recognition and it hurts Jisung even though he knows logically that he can’t blame her. As the captain every case goes through her first, she probably sees more names of victims and suspects in a day than he would in a month.

“The aggravated assault case from the other week. The victim was a teenage boy named Lee Euiwoong.”

Kahi’s eyes glisten with recognition and clear of their previous accusation. “What did he say? Did you record the conversation?”

Jisung reluctantly hands her over both the notes he’d made during the conversation and the tape-recording.

He doesn’t expect her to listen to it then and there, with him still there, but she does. Euiwoong’s voice drifts into the office. When you can’t see his bruises and the way he stares at his lap and furrows his brow he sounds stronger. Not that he isn’t strong no matter what. Jisung knows what strong people look like, he knows so many of them, and Euiwoong is definitely a survivor.

When the recording fades out, Jisung thinks he sees Kahi the human being instead of Kahi the captain for the first time. It’s brief, but the look of heartbreak on her face says it all.

“The Hyungseob mentioned, he is a suspect in this case, correct?” She asks, firm and faultlessly professional again, like nothing had happened.

“Yes. The only suspect so far, in fact.”

“Then it’s your move from here, officer Yoon. You’ve been with the police for years now. In that time I’ve noticed you always do your best and rarely make mistakes.”

Jisung nods at her and makes his way back to his desk. The warrant for Ahn Hyungseob’s arrest is still sitting on his desk, at the top of a bunch of other papers he should be sorting through.

If he had any doubt about what he should do before, it’s gone now.

 

* * *

 

Once upon a time, the days Guanlin spent in the house while almost everyone else was away at school were mostly the same.

He’d eat breakfast, everyone would leave, and he’d spend most of the day talking with Jihoon, tinkering with whatever he was working on or hacking whatever looked fun, and eventually, one by one everyone would start to come back and things would resume to their usual chaos.

Now, his days are still spent mostly the same, but not the way that they used to be.

Woojin doesn’t go to school. This means that he stays home with him and Jihoon. This would be fine, except it means he stays home with him and _Jihoon_.

When everyone else is there, Woojin and Jihoon can exist in the same place without issue (well, without too much issue. After their fight the other week they weren’t allowed in the same room for training anymore.) When it is just the three of them, though, the two of them avoid each other as much as they can.

On one side of the house, there is Jihoon. On the other, there is Woojin. In the middle, torn in two directions, there is Guanlin.

Jihoon is his friend, he likes spending time with Jihoon, and he knows Jihoon doesn’t like it when Guanlin goes to talk to Woojin instead. Woojin is his friend, he likes spending time with Woojin, and Woojin is understanding, though perhaps a little disappointed, when he goes to talk to Jihoon instead.

It’s like walking on a tightrope, and he’s decided he just wants off of it and back on the ground.

He’s in the kitchen with Woojin. Jihoon had had breakfast then went back to his room when he saw that Guanlin and Woojin were wrapped up in conversation (they were discussing if Guanlin could manipulate the microwave so that it would make perfect s’mores).

“Hey, Woojin, have you been in the pool yet?” Guanlin asks.

Woojin splutters. “You guys have a _pool_?”

“Yeah.”

Woojin glances out the kitchen window, searching the garden.

“Oh, it’s not outside. It’s an indoor pool. In the basement.”

“An indoor pool,” Woojin repeats in disbelief.

“I know. Rich people are wild.” Guanlin shakes his head. “Anyway, wanna go swimming?”

“Of course. Let me just go upstairs and get changed.”

Guanlin watches Woojin run off up the stairs before following. He heads further down the hall than Woojin’s room though, and knocks on another door.

“Who is it?” Jihoon’s voice asks.

“Guanlin.” Guanlin thinks ‘obviously’ to himself because if Woojin and Jihoon can’t even co-exist in the communal rooms of the house then they are definitely not going to go wandering in and out of each other's rooms anytime soon.

“Come in.”

Guanlin opens the door to find Jihoon sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone. There’s music playing quietly from Jihoon’s earphones, one still in his ear and the other hanging next to him since he probably took it out when he heard Guanlin knocking.

“I’m feeling like going swimming. Do you wanna come with? It’s been awhile since we hung around by the pool.

Jihoon narrows his eyes, suspicious. Guanlin doesn’t let it faze him. If there’s one person in this house who has anywhere near as much experience in deception as Jihoon, it’s probably him.

“Where’s Woojin?”

“In his room,” Guanlin says. It’s not technically a lie. Woojin is in his room, at least right now.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go swimming.”

Guanlin tells Jihoon he’ll meet him down there, then quickly runs to change into swimming trunks himself before running back to Woojin’s room. The other boy is stood outside, wearing swimming trunks and carrying a towel. Guanlin imagines they might look a little ridiculous like this in the carpeted hallway with no pool in sight, but it’s not like anyone can see them in the privacy of their own home.

“I, uh, don’t actually know how to get to the basement,” Woojin says shyly.

“Yeah, sorry. That’s why I came up here, to show you the way.” That isn’t a complete lie either. “Come on, let’s go.” Guanlin needs to make sure they’re out of sight by the time Jihoon leaves his room so maybe he’s moving a little fast, but of all people Woojin isn’t going to mind that.

The basement is completely converted into a swimming area. A large, glittering blue pool sits in the middle of the room. The floor around it is the same tile you’d find in any public pool, though in black so it doesn’t contrast with the dark blue walls. There’s inflatable pool toys in a cupboard, and even a little room with a shower behind them.

Guanlin can remember how in awe he was the first time he ever set foot in here. He’d been to the local public pool with Seonho, back when he was younger, but he never imagined living in a house that had a pool of its own one day. He’d been both amazed and a little resentful that people just on the other side of the city had money like this when he’d grown up with next to nothing.

He has long gotten over his resentment, but some part of him is still a little amazed.

Looking over at Woojin, he can see just a little of that awe on the other boy's face too.

They don’t get a chance to say anything before Jihoon is walking into the room. He instantly freezes at the sight of Woojin stood there, and Woojin does the same.

Woojin doesn’t move, but Jihoon does, marching up to Guanlin.

“Guanlin, can I have a word with you?” He asks, full of fake-politeness.

Guanlin accepts his fate and let’s Jihoon drag him a few steps away from where Woojin still hasn’t moved.

“What the hell, Guanlin?!” Jihoon demands.

“I know you’re mad. But I live here too, Jihoon. I can’t handle the two of you avoiding each other anymore. I love you, you know that. But Woojin is my friend too and I don’t want to be made to have to choose between the two of you five days a week!”

Jihoon’s expression softens and Guanlin knows before he even says anything that, at least for now, he’s not only off the hook but has Jihoon on his side.

“Ugh, I can’t believe you played me,” Jihoon exclaims. “I don’t know whether to be disappointed or proud.”

“Both is probably a good plan.” Guanlin smiles.

 

The atmosphere is awkward, to say the least. They are messing around more than actually swimming. Jihoon is floating in one of the big inflatable lilos he’d grabbed, watching Guanlin and Woojin have a contest for how long they can hold their breath underwater. The problem is that, even in the same room, they’re still only talking to Guanlin instead of each other.

“You won, Guanlin,” Jihoon says when they finally come up for air.

“No, I didn’t.” Guanlin is pretty sure Woojin came up just a second after he did.

“You did,” Jihoon insists.

“Whatever,” Guanlin gives in, but it’s clear from his tone that he still disagrees.

“We can have a rematch, if that helps?” Woojin suggests.

Guanlin knows that that probably won’t change Jihoon’s mind. He’s about to say that it’s fine and it doesn’t matter who won when Jihoon interjects.

“How about you go against me, instead?” Jihoon levels at Woojin.

There’s a beat of thick silence and then. “Yeah, okay.”

Guanlin doesn’t know yet if this is a good thing or a bad thing. He’s leaning towards bad.

“How about we do something else?” Guanlin asks. He doesn’t entirely trust them not to drown each other if they go underwater.

“Like what?”

Guanlin looks around desperately for an idea. “Uhhh, see who can swim four laps the fastest?”

“...Sounds fair?” Woojin shrugs.

“How is that fair?! Woojin has superspeed!” Jihoon asks.

“I don’t even know if my powers would work for swimming,” Woojin shrugs again. “Anyway, I  wasn’t going to use my powers. I promise I won’t.”

Jihoon still looks wary,  but in the end he nods.

Guanlin lifts himself out of the water and sits at the edge instead, feet dangling in the water.

“Okay, I will be your very fair and unbiased judge,” Guanlin says.

Jihoon and Woojin both go to the far end of the pool, leaving most of the width of it between them. Guanlin tries not to roll his eyes before he says “Go!”

They both start swimming immediately. Guanlin watches them, if only because he doesn’t want them to argue later if it seems like he isn’t sure about the result. Well, okay maybe he’s a little curious about who wins.

Jihoon starts to slow down on the third lap. Guanlin can’t blame him. Neither of them swam much before coming here. In fact, Jihoon was only just about to keep himself afloat at first. He’s improved a lot with all the time they’ve spent down here, but he isn’t going to become an olympic medalist in swimming anytime soon.

He doesn’t know if Woojin had much swimming experience in his life before this. He’d like to get to know the other boy more.Woojin is a part of their ridiculous, mish-mashed family now no matter what but Guanlin feels like there’s still that tiny bit of distance because he just doesn’t know as much about Woojin as he does about everyone else. He understands how hard it is to open up about your past though, and even if he never knows everything about Woojin he would never consider him to mean any less to him than the rest of his family.

In the end, Woojin wins. Guanlin announces it a little nervously, prepared to face Jihoon’s wrath. Jihoon narrows his eyes at Woojin and Guanlin knows that Jihoon would never hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it but he can’t help but fear for Woojin’s life a little.

“Promise you didn’t cheat?” Jihoon asks Woojin carefully.

“I promise,” Woojin looks open and honest.

There’s a few beats of silence where Guanlin finds himself holding his breath. He almost thinks he’s hearing things when Jihoon finally replies.

“Okay.” Jihoon nods.

“Okay?” Woojin breathes. Guanlin can’t blame him for the disbelief lacing his tone.

“Okay.” Jihoon repeats. “I- I believe you.”

Then, something incredibly unexpected happens. Jihoon splashes Woojin with water and says “Still annoyed that you won, though,” with a _smile_ on his face. It’s small, but Guanlin knows that Jihoon is smiling when he sees it.

Woojin gasps, surprised and probably shocked. He smiles, though, straight at Jihoon and Guanlin thinks maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for them after all.

 

They hang around by the pool for a while longer before they all start to get hungry. They get up, kind of lazily, and dry off before making their way to the kitchen. Maybe they shouldn’t put food before showering, but they’re growing boys, or whatever it is that parents tell their teenage kids.

They look around the kitchen for something to eat. Guanlin, at least, is lazy and doesn't give much thought to his health, at first he’d just eaten junk food for every meal he had to make for himself. He soon realised that if all the junk food keeps disappearing while Jisung isn’t home he’d not only catch on and start buying less of it, but he’d also probably get mad at them for eating his supply of mini brownies. Guanlin’s gotten into the habit of at least making sandwiches for himself now, and though it’s very low down on the list of culinary crafts he’s pretty proud of how good they turn out.

Out of gratefulness for the fact they didn’t make him feel as awkward as usual today, he decides to take care of Jihoon and Woojin’s lunches for them too. He thinks of just making them sandwiches, then he thinks of how grateful he is to them for more than just not avoiding or killing each other today and has another idea.

“How about we get takeout for lunch? My treat.” Guanlin offers.

“Seriously?” Jihoon raises an eyebrow.

“You have money?” Woojin asks.

Guanlin waves both of their questions off. “Hold on a second.”

He runs upstairs to his room. It takes him a second to remember where he’s stashed it, but eventually the memory comes back to him and he opens up the bottom drawer of his desk. He pulls out a couple of crumpled bills before throwing a shirt on and then locking the drawer again.

He always kept all the money he’d stolen that he hadn’t immediately spent. Even after he first moved in, it took him a while to realise that he didn’t need to keep saving the little he had because he didn’t have to worry about money any more, no one would leave him to suffer like that again. After that, he just left it still, because he didn’t need to use his own money when everything was being taken care of for him...and maybe, there was still a little dark whisper in the back of his mind telling him to save and save, because old habits are hard to kill.

He knows that he doesn’t need to live like that any more though, and he can’t think of a better way to spend the money he has than to treat his friends.

“Come on, you guys, let’s go,” He says once he’s back in the dining room. “You might wanna go put shirts on though, it’s not summer anymore.”

Once his friends are fully dressed they head out the door and start walking to the little bakery just a few streets away. The walk is nice. Woojin and Jihoon both seem relaxed, and Guanlin wonders how long it can stay that way.

Guanlin perhaps goes a bit crazy in the bakery, buying more cupcakes and cookies than they can realistically eat in one sitting, but he’s never splurged with his own money like this and it feels freeing. Besides, extra baked-goods never hurt anybody.

Guanlin carries the bag on the way back. He’s telling them about something funny Jinyoung did the other day when he notices that Jihoon’s gaze is not on him but rather on the other side of the road. Guanlin follows his line of sight, curious, but the other side of houses looks the same as always.

“Are you okay?” He asks Jihoon.

Jihoon turns back to him and smiles. Guanlin knows he shouldn’t always believe Jihoon’s smiles, but maybe this one was genuine, after all, there’s nothing out of the ordinary going on.

“Yeah, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. I was just...thinking about something...”

Guanlin shrugs it off and continues with his story. They get back to the house and devour half the bag of food. Woojin and Jihoon don’t fight.

Guanlin hopes that from now on, every day can be a bit more like this.

 

* * *

 

Woojin knows that he thinks about Jihoon perhaps more than he should. He has a lot to think about when it comes to him, to be fair. He’s just so...different. He’s different to everyone else in this house, he’s different to anyone else Woojin has ever met. Maybe for once in his life, thinking so much is paying off, because he’s realised something.

 He likes that Jihoon is different. He likes that Jihoon treats him differently. It’s not that he likes the lack of trust the other boy has for him; he _wants_ Jihoon to trust him. He wants Jihoon to be as comfortable around him as he seems to be around everyone else. He hears stories and comments from the others about Jihoon which he can’t reconcile with the boy he knows. He wants to get to know the real Jihoon, he longs to get closer to him in a way he hasn’t really felt towards anyone before. What he does like, though, is that Jihoon doesn’t treat him like he’s fragile. He doesn’t handle Woojin as if he’s made of porcelain like he can still find the others doing sometimes. He thought he was okay with that treatment, and it’s not as if he hates it, and god he _loves_ everyone so much already despite the short time he’s been here, but the way Jihoon treats him makes him feel more normal, more like himself, more- just _more_.

He doesn’t know how to feel about all this. On one hand he wants Jihoon to be comfortable with him but on the other hand he doesn’t want him to start treating him like everyone else does.

He wants something more like today; they were in the pool and for the first time Jihoon showed some trust towards Woojin and Woojin felt a sense of achievement and beautiful warmth flood through him, yet at the same time Jihoon was still Jihoon, teasing and a little careless, not enough to hurt Woojin but instead just enough to make him feel like he wasn’t somehow broken..

Woojin hopes that whatever relationship it is they have now (and Woojin doesn’t know what to call it. They aren’t quite friends and they aren’t quite enemies and they are somehow family) can continue to grow into something comfortable like that moment today.

He doesn’t know how to help make that happen though. He feels like he’s entirely relearning how to talk to people and navigate human interaction. He doesn’t mind that, as annoying as it is, because everyone understands. With Jihoon, though, he feels like gaining more of his trust would involve a lot of careful navigation, a skill that Woojin doesn’t have right now. He’s pretty sure if he messes up even slightly things between them will be set right back to the start. Maybe it’s just better to say nothing at all and keep doing whatever it is he’s doing that got them this far.

He doesn’t want to mess it up. He kind of thinks he’s messed up enough for one lifetime.

 

 

_He knew he shouldn’t get in fights. In his defence, the other guy had started it (not that Woojin hadn’t been hanging around waiting for trouble.) Woojin was just defending himself (and enjoying it.) If Donghyun could see him now he’d probably be shaking his head and would want to talk about his feelings (that brought a vicious smile to his face as he threw another punch.)_

_He leant against the wall to catch his breath when he realised the other guy was knocked out on the ground. There was blood dripping from Woojin’s lip. He wondered when the metallic taste had started to become both familiar and addictive._

_He was planning to tidy himself up a bit then stumble back to a busier street, far from this alleyway, before the guy he’d fought could wake up. Instead, he heard the roaring engine of a motorcycle headed straight for him._

_The driver stops just in time not to hit Woojin or the boy on the ground. Woojin just stood and watched, a little guarded. What if he’d accidentally knocked out some kind of gang member? Maybe he was looking for trouble, but he didn’t think he was prepared for that much trouble._

_The man on the motorcycle took his helmet off, leaving it on the seat as he started to stalk towards Woojin._

_“I think you, uh, beat up my friend.” He gestures at the still unconscious kid on the floor._

_Woojin swallowed. This had never happened before. It was fine, though, he would fight this guy too if he had to._

_“That’s impressive.” The guy continued._

_Woojin couldn’t help but be surprised. This guy found his friend unconscious in an alley and he was calling it impressive?_

_“He’ll probably wake up soon,” The guy continued, aiming a not particularly light kick at the knocked out boy’s side. “We should get out of here.”_

_“We? But I thought he was your friend?” Woojin was definitely confused now._

_“He’ll be cool with it. Eventually.” The guy shrugged. “Get on.” He patted the motorcycle seat._

_Woojin had never ridden a motorcycle before; he didn’t think he’d even touched one. There was a voice in his head that sounded a lot like Donghyun’s telling him to never take a ride from a stranger. Probably, especially, when said stranger screamed trouble from their scruffy blonde hair down to their heavy boots._

_Donghyun wasn’t here to tell him what to do anymore, his brain reminded him, and he climbed on._

_He had no idea who this guy was or where he was taking him, but with the feeling of the wind in his hair, the spike of adrenaline, and knowing he was doing something that Donghyun would disapprove of if he still cared, made him not mind at all._

_The guy bought them both beer and Woojin didn’t bother mentioning that he was only seventeen. The guy parked at the top of a  multistory parking lot, the city and all its twinkling lights laid out before him— it was beautiful in the way only bad decisions could be._

_He’d never drank before. The alcohol tasted bitter and went straight to his head. He still drank half the first can in one go._

_“So, what were you beating the shit out of my buddy back there for?” The guy asked him, taking a deep swing from his own can._

_“I don’t know,” Woojin said. It wasn’t a lie. He did it because he wanted to hurt— not someone else, but himself, but he knew that that was messed up and illogical and he didn’t know why he felt this way._

_“You part of a gang or something?”_

_“N-no, of course not.” Woojin noticed the smirk on the guys face. “Why, are you?”_

_“Maybe.” He snorted. “What, does that scare you?”_

_Yes._

_“No.”_

_“Does that excite you?”_

_Yes._

_“No.”_

_The guys smirk never dropped._

_After three cans Woojin’s vision had started to blur and he couldn’t think straight. He took another sip._

_“What’s your name?” The guy’s voice suddenly cut through the haze of alcohol on his mind._

_“Woojin.” He mumbled._

_The guy nodded. “I’m Sihoon.” He was quiet for a moment, before continuing: “You know what I think, Woojin?”_

_“What?”_

_“I think the world fucked you over. I think that you're angry at someone, and you need an outlet for that.”_

_Woojin shuddered. Was he that transparent?_

_“Yeah? And what do you know about me?” Woojin snarled._

_“I think that you deserve better than that shit. I think you deserve that outlet. I think that you should shout, scream, burn down the world, starting with those who hurt you.”_

_The words should have scared Woojin. He should have realised that encouraging you to burn the world wasn’t what someone who didn’t want it to burn themselves did. But words were hard to think and feelings were easy and going with what you’re told was easier._

_“Shouting and screaming seems like a good start,” Woojin replied._

_“Then do it! Look at this fucking city! Scream about everyone and everything that did you wrong until they can all hear it.” He was the one screaming now.._

_Woojin stared over out the edge and felt anger mix with the alcohol in his veins._

_“Fuck my parents for abandoning me when I was a baby,” Woojin started. “I was just a fucking kid! Why didn’t you want me! Were you too screwed up to raise me? Did you realise I was screwed up when I came out? Did you just not care?” He’d began with little more than a whisper but he was screaming now without even realising that he’d started._

_“Yes! That’s good!”_

_“All my foster-families that dumped me! Why couldn’t you do your jobs? Why couldn’t you look after the kids you were paid to look after!”_

_Woojin took a deep breath and ripped the band-aid off his freshest wound despite the fact the band-aid was barely there in the first place and it was always there as a fresh, gaping wound._

_“Why the fuck did you have to leave me Donghyun! So what if you turned eighteen, so what if the foster system wouldn’t have let you stay any longer. You could have stayed anyway, took me with you, done something! You said I was your brother but you abandoned me too, just like everybody else!” Tears threatened to fall from Woojin’s eyes. His throat hurt almost as much as his heart._

_“They didn’t care about you,” Sihoon said firmly. “None of them ever cared about you but I do, just me. Do you get that?” He’s grabbed firmly onto Woojin’s shoulders at this point, strong and harsh enough that Woojin couldn’t move._

_Woojin nodded, hazy and still almost crying._

_“I’ll drive you home.” He said. Woojin was too drunk and too emotional to even consider the empty beer cans littering the floor and the fact that this guy should definitely not be driving._

 

_He woke up the next morning with his first ever hangover and a message on his phone. At first he thought it was probably Donghyun, but he hadn’t deleted Donghyun’s number even though he’d been tempted to and whoever this number belonged to wasn’t saved to his contacts._

 

 **_Unknown:  
_ ** **_Hey! I had a decent time last tonight. Wanna meet up again tonight? There’s a party I thought might be worth checking out. -S_ **

 

_It took a long moment for recollections of last night to start floating back to him, but when they did he remembered beer and the roar of a motorbike and a guy. Sihoon. Apparently Woojin had given him his number at some point, not that he remembered it._

_Later, he was at the party of someone he didn’t know with too loud music, a bunch of strangers, and more alcohol._

_A few days later he stopped hanging out at the foster home as often and found himself at Sihoon’s apartment instead. Then before he knew it he lived there, then before he knew it he’d been moving again into a house full of people with powers who he didn’t know and didn’t want to know, but part of him was off the rails and part of him had given up so he didn’t fight against it._

_Donghyun stopped calling after a while. Woojin never answered, even when he wanted to. He never let go of the feeling of being left behind— especially not when he heard ‘they never cared about you’ echo in his mind whenever he tried to._

 

“What are you thinking about?” Minhyun asks.

Woojin startles. He forgot he was in the kitchen at three AM where anyone can walk in, he forgot he was anywhere, too caught up in his own thoughts

“The series of decisions that have lead me to who I am today and where I go from here,” Woojin answers with a sigh.

“Oh,” Minhyun pauses. “Mood.”

Minhyun pulls two boxes of tea out of the cupboard. “Raspberry or Chamomile?”

“Hmm, raspberry.”

“Good choice.”

“So, do you wanna talk more about it?” Minhyun asks when he’s placed two cups of raspberry tea on the counter and sat down across from Woojin.

“Hm, not right now. I’m not even sure what’s bothering me, really.” And he isn’t, not really, why does he _care_ so much about the behaviour of one person? Why does he care so much about what Jihoon thinks of him? “What about you? Why are you awake?” He asks instead.

“No particular reason. Daniel’s room is the one next to mine, maybe his sleep talking is keeping me up again.” Woojin knows that there’s no way Minhyun could hear anything with how thick the walls are, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Is Seongwoo still here?” Woojin asks. “Maybe he can tell Daniel to shut up.”

“I think he’s at work. Besides, that would probably just be worse, Seongwoo doesn’t sleep until around now and he’s more annoying awake than Daniel could ever be asleep.”

“Are you dating anyone?” Woojin asks. It might be kind of a sudden question but Woojin is reminded of it as they talk about Seongwoo and Daniel. He knows those two are dating and he heard Sungwoon talking about some guy called Taehyun though he’s never met him.

“It’s- it’s complicated.” Minhyun says. He takes a sip of his tea and Woojin takes that as a sign that he doesn’t want to talk about <i>why</i> it’s complicated. “What about you? Any romantic flings you didn’t tell us about?”

“Not anymore,” Woojin says. He realises he’s glad. He can’t blame his now-ex for the mistakes he made in the past, but he definitely contributed towards them. Now that they’re not together, Woojin can start over— hopefully.

Minhyun nods, not offering comment or more questions.

Woojin thinks these moments are one of the things he likes best about being here. He loves everyone’s company, but it can all get a little much at times; even just being with Daehwi can be a little overwhelming at times because that’s just who Daehwi is. Minhyun...Minhyun understands that sometimes there’s a need for silence, a need to be alone but with the quiet comfort of company.

They sit for a while longer, both in their own heads, before Minhyun speaks again.

“I’m going to try and go to bed. You should get some sleep too, if you can.”

Woojin nods and slides off his seat. Before he can go, he finds himself wrapped up in a hug. Minhyun has left it loose enough that Woojin could easily escape if he wanted to, but he wraps his arms around Minhyun instead.

“Thank you,” Woojin says.

Minhyun quirks an eyebrow. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did more than you know.”

“...yeah, you too. Thank you, Woojin.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, so it’s between Captain America: The Winter Soldier and...Legally Blonde.”

“Shouldn’t the answer be obvious? Captain America: The Winter Soldier is a cinematic masterpiece,” Jaehwan says.

“And Legally Blonde  _isn’t_?” Daehwi asks incredulously.

“We are just picking what to watch for movie night, not the best picture oscar.”

“Legally Blonde should have won best picture.” Daehwi says firmly.

Daniel watches as Jaehwan and Daehwi argue it out. Others try to intervene, but they’re quickly silenced by whoever’s side they don’t take.

Daniel is a fan of both movies, so instead of getting involved he sneaks the popcorn bowl over to himself instead.

“You know what? You all say I’m the leader, so as the leader I’m officially making this decision. We’re watching Captain America.” Jisung interjects.

Daehwi pouts.

“Daehwi, we watched your choice last time,” Jisung reminds him.

“That was Hairspray! This is Legally Blonde! They are two completely different things.” Daehwi huffs, but he doesn’t complain when Jisung turns the movie on.

Doing things as a group can be difficult sometimes since most of them have school or work or other responsibilities. Even when they all find themselves free, chances are at least one of them is exhausted and can’t be bothered to do much, so unless they’ve made plans in advance movie nights become a go-to.

Daniel thinks he might actually prefer it to when they go out somewhere. The feeling of sitting in the living room with the people who mean the most to him, sleepy and comfortable with the lights dimmed as they get to just relax and talk is instinctually comforting.

Halfway through the movie he can feel his eyelids start to drop. He’s not tired so much as warm and drowsy. He doesn’t fight it and lets his head fall onto the shoulder of the boy next to him.

“I’m not a pillow,” Jaehwan says.

“Oh, I see how it is.” Seongwoo says from his other side.

Daniel tries to look at both of them from where his head is resting on Jaehwan’s shoulder; it’s an incredibly difficult feat that he quickly gives up on.

“You’re a good pillow, Jaehwan. You’re soft. Seongwoo, you’re an awful pillow, not soft whatsoever.” He says matter-of-factly.

“I’m soft!” Seongwoo says, mock-offended.

“Is that all I am to you? A comfortable surface?” Jaehwan asks, in the same mock-offended tone (at least he hopes it’s mock, hopes it’s pretend— sometimes, when he’s around Jaehwan, something is there that makes him feel strangely unsure.)

“No.” Daniel mumbles. “You’re...you’re also fun, and interesting, and nice,”

He’s getting sleepier now. It’s just so warm and comfortable between the two of them that it lulls him to truly feel safe and relaxed. He’s not entirely sure what he’s saying at this point, but the words flow out so easily.

Jaehwan is silent for a moment. Despite the low hum of the movie’s audio and their friends talking in the background, it feels truly silent and Daniel is unsure again. He is never normally like this, not anymore, not around his friends, not around Seongwoo, not around Jaehwan. He doesn’t know why Jaehwan is in a different category to the rest of his friends, but he is. He finds himself letting go even more than usual when he’s with Jaehwan and Seongwoo. Perhaps because he feels more looked after than he feels like he’s looking after others.

There’s been moments lately though, moments where he’s felt like he’s been giving second thought to his words and actions more than he normally would. It isn’t Jaehwan making him feel unsure, it’s more something in himself that he isn’t willing to look inside and learn more about just now.

He’s always hated feeling unsure, though he used to know no different.

 

_“Sit up straight, Daniel.”_

_Daniel shifted in his seat in response to his mother's chiding. He’d thought that he was sitting up straight, but his mother always seemed to think differently._

_She was hosting a dinner tonight. Daniel didn’t know what it was for, but every six months she invited everyone she knew to their house to eat and mill around with glasses of wine afterwards. She always treated it as an incredibly important and formal affair and Daniel was always to be on his best behaviour._

_“Daniel, you look stiff. Loosen up or people will think you don’t want to be here.”_

_Daniel was just sitting up straight like he’d been told, wasn’t he? He tried to relax a bit, anyway._

_His mother sat across the large oak table from him; she was prim, poised, proper. Daniel wondered why it was apparently so hard for him to be the same. The maid was setting the table as the chef added the finishing touches in the kitchen. For occasions like this his mother hired only the best, and even if these evenings were always uncomfortable for Daniel he could at least appreciate the food._

_There was a knock at the door and his mother stood, looking him over one last time as she did so. “Remember the tableware rules. And stop frowning. Smile, Daniel. You should always smile, it’s polite.”_

_He nodded and plastered what he hoped was a smile on his face. It was hard to always remember to smile, even if he didn’t feel like it, but his father insisted it would get easier until it was instinct for him to break out in a grin no matter the situation._

_The parade of his mother's friends was familiar. He knew all of them by name, if only thanks to it being drilled into him. He couldn’t say he was fond of any of them, but he never showed it. The saving grace of the evening was the fact that Jisung’s parents were here, and they’d brought their son with them._

_They were allowed to sit next to each other as long as they weren’t a disturbance, that meant that they barely got to talk, but it was a lot better that sitting next to one of his mother's middle-aged friends._

_“And how old is Daniel now?” That’s how adults always talked about him, like he wasn’t really there._

_“Thirteen.” His mother answered._

_“Ah yes, a difficult age.”_

_“Nonsense. Daniel is a perfectly behaved child, always has been.” If that was true then why was she always making changes to the way he acted? Daniel didn’t understand._

_“Well, it’s all thanks to the way you raised him, then.”_

_His mother smiled._

_The conversation changed topic again and Daniel drowned it out as well as he could while still looking like he was paying the utmost attention._

_“How old is your son, again?” His mother asked her friend._

_“Oh, he’s just turned twenty-four.”_

_“Wonderful! He moved into his own house, correct? Was it with his wife?”_

_“Well, uh, my son isn’t married.”_

_“No? I could swear you said he was moving in with someone. Oh goodness, don’t tell me he’s cohabitating with a woman?” She gasped but at the same time leaned in closer, ready for gossip._

_“He is living unmarried with his partner, yes. Unfortunately the law does not currently allow them to marry since his partner is also a man.”_

_His mother's fork clattered against her plate. Daniel thought of all the times she’d told him not to drop things or make too much noise while eating._

_“You can’t be saying that he’s-” His mother started._

_“Gay, yes.”_

_Daniel realised the implications of what had been said then. He knew what the word gay meant, of course. He’d heard it being whispered like a dirty joke in school hallways and he’d heard his mother spit at it as she read the newspaper in their living room or saw two people of the same gender standing what she deemed a bit too close in the streets. He knew her opinions about the matter well: ‘It’s vile. If only these people had had a better upbringing. Daniel, if you ever turn out like that then I’ll know I’ve truly failed as a parent. What’s that face for? Smile, Daniel.’_

_He expected his mother to start arguing with the man; she would tell him all about how he’s done wrong as a parent and how his child is wrong and how she won’t accept something like that in her home._

_“Oh, well then.” His mother said. “I hope your son and his lovely partner can join us sometime.”_

_Daniel was struck with confusion. His mother had always spoken badly of those people, why did she seem perfectly fine with it now? He didn’t understand._

_He didn’t say anything, just kept silent. He didn’t question what his mother said anymore, but sometimes he ended up in an inescapable loop of thinking about it and trying to figure out what it was she really thought and really wanted._

 

_He said his goodbyes to Jisung in the late evening as all the guests left the vicinity._

_He was more than ready to go to bed, but his mother would kill him if he didn’t get in the hours of studying he’d been unable to do due to the dinner event. He started to head up the stairs. He froze when he heard his mother yelling in the kitchen._

_“Your friend has a gay child and you didn’t tell me?!” His mother screeches._

_“Dear, I didn’t think it was relative. It’s not as if he’s bringing the couple round here.”_

_“It doesn’t matter, he’s still tolerating...that! In our home!”_

_Daniel’s brain hurt. His mother was never consistent, or maybe Daniel just never understood her. Maybe something was wrong with him. She had gone from hating people like that, to seeming more than okay during dinner today, to back to her earlier attitude._

_“Is it really that much of a problem?” His father sighed, weary. He was always weary._

_“What about Daniel? We can’t let him grow up thinking that stuff is okay!”_

_Daniel didn’t want to disagree with his mother, and he never would aloud, but he couldn’t help but not feel the same. At least, not since Jisung had come to him and confided that he liked boys, well, not just boys, he’d said he felt he was capable of liking anyone no matter their gender. Daniel had been confused and wary and probably said a few offensive things at first, but Jisung, ever patient, had sat and explained it to him. He still didn’t know whether it was wrong or not, really, but if agreeing with his mother meant hating his best friend then he just couldn’t._

_As long as his mother never found out about Jisung, it was okay. If he did his best to be what she wanted from him, then her even wondering about things like who his friends are wouldn’t be a problem._

_He had missed part of the conversation now, but he was forcibly dragged back to listening when his mother went from harsh whispers to all out screaming._

_“Of course it would matter if Daniel turned out like that! He is our son, and he carries our name! We would never be able to live it down if that happened and people found out! I would never be able to live down that I’ve failed to raise my son. He’s bad enough as it is!”_

_Daniel closed his eyes. He’d heard enough and he’d heard it all before. He went up to room to work through the pile of studying he had, earphones lodged firmly in his ears, the music turned up loud enough that he at least wouldn’t have to listen to his mother for the rest of the night._

 

 

“Nice to look at?” Jaehwan jokes.

It sounds a little forced. It’s one of those split-second things that makes Daniel stop and think. Maybe it’s because his words aren’t enough. Fun, interesting, and nice are all such… _normal_ words. They weren’t enough to describe him. Daniel has never been the best with words, despite the expensive education his parents paid for. He feels more than thinks and he can never put his feelings into words because of that.

“Yeah, that too.” Daniel smiles, more asleep than awake at this point but still holding on to the edge of consciousness.

Daniel tries not to dwell on it, but sometimes it hits him how lucky he is to have all these people surrounding him. They love him no matter what; it’s something he never felt until he met Jisung and struggled to believe others could do until he met the rest of them. They don’t tell him that the way he is, from the way he sits to who he loves, is wrong over and over again. They don’t push him to be someone he isn’t. He can just be himself around them and not second-guess or overthink everything.

He wants to keep it that way, he thinks, as the soft warmth in his chest spreads through him when he shifts on Jaehwan’s shoulder, face brushing against the skin on his neck.

 

He doesn’t realise he’s actually fallen asleep until he’s gently being roused awake again.

“Mmm, what time is it?” He asks.

“Eleven. The movie just finished. We should get you to bed.” Seongwoo says.

“Hmmm.” Daniel snuggles further into his pillow (which is still Jaehwan’s shoulder, his mind supplies. Daniel is surprised he wasn’t pushed off the moment he fell asleep.) He doesn’t want to move. His limbs feel heavy with sleep and his room is too far away. Besides, he loves his bed but he loves his friends more. “Can’t we just all sleep here tonight?”

The room erupts into talking. Daniel doesn’t pay much attention to the words being said until he’s gently pulled into a more upright position so Jaehwan can help Jisung go get some more blankets.

It isn’t long before the large, usually empty space in the middle of the living room is transformed into a giant makeshift bed. There’s no mattress but it’s barely noticeable with the amount of comforters, blankets and cushions making up for it.

Jisung turns the light off and Daniel shifts himself to the floor and under the covers along with everyone else. He’s on the brink of sleep again almost immediately but the constant shifting and chatter just about keep him awake.

His eyes are closed and he’s not sure who’s arm is slung around his waist or whose hair is tickling his cheek or whose head is half resting on his stomach but it doesn’t matter; what matters is it’s them.

“You guys really sleep like this? How? I’m boiling!” He hears Woojin say.

“You can go back to your bed if you want,” Jisung replies, not unkindly.

“No. I’m good here.” Woojin says after a moment.

Daniel drifts off to sleep then, free of worry and glad that this is his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the time it took for this one. I honestly just really struggled with it, I don't think I've ever deleted and rewrote whole scenes as much as I did with this chapter. I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with it still, but eh, it's out there now. The good news is a lot happens in the next chapter, so hopefully it will be easier to write (and better to read if this one sucks)
> 
> Also, if you're wondering who Sihoon is, he's not a Produce 101 boy. He's a brand new music trainee and probably a perfectly nice person in real life, though that applies to everyone who isn't a particularly nice person in this fic.
> 
> Also comments and kudos feed my family thank you to everyone who's done it so far!


	7. Chapter 7

Minhyun stomach hurtles and he has to throw his hands on the wall just to make sure he has the strength to sink to the floor. His limbs feel like a rag-doll’s, flimsy and unable to hold up his weight. There’s a burning under his skin, demanding his attention as beads of sweat start to roll down his forehead.

He hates coming out of visions.

It’s like his entire body is trying to rebel against whatever he just saw, like it’s a virus that’s making him sick and his body needs to do everything possible to sweat it out while setting off the alarm bells.

After what he just saw, he can’t blame it.

He brings his knees to his chest and closes his eyes. The room won’t stop spinning and he feels like if he has to look at it any longer he may puke.

Nausea and cold flashes hit him in waves for what feels like hours after the visions end. He isn’t sure if it’s always this bad or if his symptoms get worse depending on what it is he sees. Either way, it hasn’t affected his mind as much as it has his body in a long time. Now though, underneath the throbbing headache his brain is a wasteland. The vision is long over yet he can still see it in his mind no matter how much he doesn’t want to, no matter how sick it makes him to stop and dwell.

He doesn't know how long he’s been sitting there but his legs feel a little more solid now and his throat burns with dehydration. He needs to move.

 

  1. Get to his feet
  2. Walk to the kitchen
  3. Get a glass of water
  4. Decide what to do about his vision



 

Step one is easier than he thought; at step two his body starts to fight against the movement. A rush of lightheadedness hits him that makes him almost faint. He forces himself to keep going anyway. The kitchen, at least, is thankfully empty. He knows he must look like he’s just been dragged through hell and it’s a little true, even if that hell was only in his mind, but he doesn’t want everyone to see him like this—  _weak_ , he thinks, _I look weak._

The water is like a blessing, easing the pain and giving him something to do at the same time. He finished the bottle and considers opening up another one, but he doesn’t want to make himself sick.

He glances at the clock hanging on the wall and finds it’s only just nearing dinner time. That tells him he was out of action for about two hours and explains why no one came to find him. It also means that everyone else is around the house, somewhere. He remembers that Jisung didn’t have work today so he should be too. If there’s anyone he should definitely talk to about this, it’s Jisung.

 He runs into more people than he would like to in his search for Jisung in this huge house. That just confirms for him that he looks awful: Daehwi asks if he’s okay, Daniel asks if he’s coming down with something and offers to attempt to heal him— ‘it will probably only work as long as it’s nothing more severe than the flu, but it’s worth a shot’- he attempts appeasing them all with the best forced smile he can muster before quickly escaping so they can’t push the issue. He can’t find Jisung anywhere on the bottom floor, which really just leaves one logical choice.

The stairs are a lot more difficult to climb up rather than down. When he reaches the top he finds himself having to pause to catch his breath, even though he should be in more than decent enough health to handle a flight of household stairs. He gives himself a moment before pushing on down the hall and knocking on Jisung’s bedroom door.

“Hello?” He hears from the other side.

“It’s Minhyun. Can I come in?” Wow, does his voice usually sound that rough?

Jisung opens it and his expression immediately morphs into one of concern. He ushers Minhyun into the room and sits him down on the desk chair that he’d probably just vacated before placing his hands on either side of Minhyun’s face.

“Minhyun, what’s wrong?” He asks, urgency and so much love leaking into his tone.

Minhyun closes his eyes. Jisung’s hands feel cool on his burning cheeks and it’s soothing.

If there’s one person he’ll allow to see him this weak, it’s Jisung. After all, he’s already seen him at his lowest point.

 

 

_Minhyun took a deep breath before pushing the heavy doors to the police station open. This was the third time that he’d been here this month. The old brick building and men and women in uniform were familiar to him now, even though he’d never been in a police station before — well, before it happened. _

_“Hi, can I speak to an officer about the Kim Jonghyun case?” He asked the woman at the reception._

_The woman glanced up at him then offered him a small smile. He knew that she recognised him from all the other times he’d been here, recently — they’d even made friendly small talk last time while Minhyun waited for someone to see him. She’s was nice, nicer than some of the officers seemed to be. _

_“Hwang Minhyun, right?” She asked, but she was already picking up the phone. Minhyun felt a tiny wave of guilt that he didn’t remember her name too (It was barely noticeable when it was just a tiny ripple added to the swilrling, all-encompassing guilt that had become his constant state lately, though.) A quick glance at her nametag told him that her name was Jieqiong and he repeated it in his mind a few times in hopes he won’t forget again._

_Jieqiong hung up the phone after a few quick words with who he presumed was the leading officer on the case._

_“Someone will be with you in a moment. Please take a seat, Mr Hwang.”_

_Minhyun did as she said and sat on the brown leather sofa in the reception area. He would have preferred to stay standing though. He couldn't take staying still anymore. His body had become little more than a vessel for his impatience (and his pain. It still hurt so much. He still felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest, leaving behind a hole of toxic darkness that wouldn’t disappear until Jonghyun was back with him. That’s why he needed to keep moving and stay focused on the side-effect of impatience instead.) His foot tapped, his fingernails dug into the leather where he kept them to stop him fiddling with them instead. Frantic, he was frantic, but he had to try and not show it — it would do no good to look crazy in this situation, not when he knew the police didn’t already think highly of him. _

_It felt like an eon before someone finally called his name. He looked up, surprised to find it was a woman talking to him rather than the officer he’d spoken to before. He got up and followed her without question, and found himself in a room of the police station he’d never been in before._

_“Hello, Hwang Minhyun,” The woman turns and goes to sit behind her desk, graceful and firm all at once. “My name is Kahi. I’m the captain of this precinct.”_

_Minhyun swallowed even though his throat was dry. Why was the captain, of all people, talking to him? Minhyun didn’t know much about how the police worked, but he couldn’t imagine that the captain often got involved personally with civilians._

_“I understand you’re here about a missing persons case?” She asked._

_Minhyun felt like reality had crashed into him and knocked not only the air out of him but his very soul — missing, missing, missing— he didn’t know why he hated it so much. Of course Jonghyun was missing, had been missing for three months now, he’d been there when Jonghyun hadn’t come home, he’d been there when Jonghyun’s dad had called the police, he’d been there as he, Minki, Dongho and Aron had tried to console him when they were even more nervous because they knew that Jonghyun had left them that night looking afraid yet determined and unwilling to say where he was going and why in case they followed. _

_He’d been there a few days before when his power showed him a vision of Jonghyun fighting someone he couldn’t quite see in a place he didn’t recognise, he’d been there when he’d told Jonghyun this in a terrified whisper but Jonghyun had barely flinched and just whispered back to Minhyun that it would all be alright._

_He realised now that Jonghyun’s lack of reaction had been because he’d already known this was going to happen, and he realised that this was the first time Jonghyun had ever lied to him._

_He didn’t care as long as that lie wasn’t one of the last things Jonghyun ever said to him, and it won’t be, it couldn’t be._

_“Yes,” Minhyun choked out._

_“Take a seat, Mr Hwang.” Unlike when Jieqiong had said it earlier, this was more of an order than a polite request._

_He sat in front of the desk. His impatience built until it was less him and more a force trying to fight its way out. He wasn’t just impatient about them finding Jonghyun but impatient to find out why the captain of all people had brought him in here._

_“I understand your worries about your missing friend.” Minhyun didn’t bother to correct her and say that Jonghyun was so much more than his friend. Minhyun hadn’t felt able to breathe ever since Jonghyun hadn’t come home. He was his whole life._

_“However,” She continued. “I’m afraid that we have no leads for this case as of now.”_

_Minhyun’s blood ran cold. If he even still had blood, sometimes he thought that the only thing keeping him alive these days was the fact that if he wasn’t he’d never know what happened to Jonghyun._

_“What do you mean?” His voice was trembling almost as much as his hands._

_“What I mean is that until a new lead shows up, this case will have to take the backseat. I’m sorry, but for now we’ve done all we can.”_

_Minhyun’s blood was ice. Whatever was left in him felt like it was collapsing in a supernova, taking whatever hope he was holding on to into the void where he could never see it. How could they just give up? Didn’t they understand how important Jonghyun was? Didn’t they understand how many people needed him? How could they not be putting everything they had into finding him?_

_The logical part of his mind was telling him that so many people went missing each day, and they couldn’t focus on just one person, especially with no leads. He grabbed onto that thought to stop himself from falling off the edge._

_“Look around warehouses,” He said, desperately. So desperate he couldn’t even stop to think before he said it._

_The police captain blinked at him. “Mr Hwang, what are you suggesting?”_

_Minhyun took a deep breath. This was dangerous, perhaps the most dangerous decision he’d ever made, even more dangerous than when he’d chosen that being some kind of superhero with his friends was a good idea when they were all little more than kids — or maybe that choice had been so much more dangerous than he’d ever thought as an eighteen year old with no real idea of the world and the encouragement of his friends at his back because where was Jonghyun? _

_He’d spent hours sat alone in the dark of his bedroom, replaying the vision he’d had a few days before Jonghyun disappeared as best as his mind could remember. The more he’d thought about it, the more he’d tried to discern anything he could from it, the more he thought the building he’d seen was the inside of a warehouse. He knows he could be wrong, or imagining things. He’d heard somewhere that the more you recall a memory the more your mind alters it. But it was all he had to offer and he couldn’t just let them let Jonghyun go._

_“I- I think he mentioned something about warehouses, the last time I saw him. Maybe he had something to pick up? Or maybe he was meeting someone?” It was a weak lie and if Kahi saw through it then it probably wouldn’t lead to anything good for him, but honestly that wouldn’t matter if it meant they found Jonghyun._

_“We’ll take that into account, Mr.Hwang,” It sounded like an empty promise and a dismissal at the same time and Minhyun wanted to scream and shout until she would listen to him. The only thing that stopped him was that he’d already caused enough potential trouble for himself for one day and if the police became concerned with him then that’s even less focus they’d be putting into finding Jonghyun._

_He didn’t say a word before he left the captain’s office, he didn’t trust himself to, instead he just nodded and walked out of there as fast as he could so he could find a wall to take his anger out on. He wasn’t looking at where he was going, so really it should have been no surprise that he crashed into someone._

_“Oh, I’m sorry!” The person he banged into smiled at him, seemingly not at all annoyed that Minhyun had sent the manilla folder he’d been carrying to the floor, leaving the contents scattered everywhere._

_“No, it’s my fault,” Minhyun sighed. Suddenly the anger had drained out of him and his shell was left with nothing but tiredness._

_He leant down to help the stranger pick up whatever had fallen. Their hands brushed when they reached for the same piece of paper. The man retracted his hand so suddenly that it made Minhyun look over at him. There was something akin to a deep sorrow in his eyes but Minhyun didn’t have the energy to wonder why._

_“I’m so sorry,” The man said, and he really, truly sounded it._

_“What for?” Minhyun asked. He’d already apologised for bumping into Minhyun and that had been Minhyun’s fault anyway._

_“I’m sure they will find him. Kahi may seem uncaring but I think she’s just...pragmatic.”_

_Minhyun didn’t understand what was going on. He had no idea how this guy knew any of this, but he was also too tired to question it right now. Maybe this conversation wasn’t even real, at this point in his mental state he wasn’t sure he’d put a few hallucinations past himself._

_“Uncaring or pragmatic she’s still not looking for him,” Minhyun huffed. “Whatever, I’ll do it myself if I have to.”_

_Minhyun had thought about looking for Jonghyun himself more than a few times before now. The problem was he didn’t know where to start. He had no idea how to go about finding a missing person, especially when you weren’t the police and couldn’t barge in places asking for information. Really, the police had all sorts of resources he could never come close to, and even theirs weren’t that great apparently._

_The man seemed to already know what he was thinking. “If you want to do that, I can help you.”_

_Minhyun looked at the man again. His offer seemed to be genuine, which only served to make Minhyun sigh. “What? Are you gonna go behind your boss’ back to help me?” He said sardonically._

_The man’s smile hitched, amused. “Who said anything about helping you as a police officer? I was just going to help you as me.”_

_“And who are you?” Minhyun asked. This conversation was starting to feel more and more unreal. He wondered what kind of name he’d come up with if he’d truly imagined this person._

_“My name’s Yoon Jisung.”_

_That name didn’t strike a single chord of familiarity in Minhyun. Surely if his subconscious had created and named an entire human being that name would have been pulled from somewhere in Minhyun’s mind?_

_“Hwang Minhyun,” He introduced himself, though it took a moment for him to remember to._

_“Oh, I know.”_

_“I should go,” Minhyun said. He didn’t know what was going and he was tired and the harsh fluorescents in the ceiling gave everything a pale glow that made the room seem dream-like, except this couldn’t be a dream because all his dreams were about Jonghyun being there._

_“Okay. See you around, Minhyun.”_

 

 

_Minhyun woke up to his phone reading that it was two a.m — only one hour after he’d fallen asleep. That wasn’t unusual, neither was the fact that tears started pooling in his eyes as the last remnants of the dream he’d had fled his mind and harsh reality took its place.  Even the string of unread messages on his phone was expected. _

_There were four from Minki, two from Dongho and one from Aron. The content of the messages were all pretty much the same. They were asking if he was okay, what the police had said when he’d talked to them what was now yesterday, why he wasn’t responding to their messages, more asking if he was okay._

_There was one unknown number, and that was unusual._

_Unknown:  
_ _I meant what I said, by the way. I’m more than willing to help you. - Jisung_

_Some of Minhyun’s exhaustion had faded now, and his tears served as a reminder that he was human and this was real. This meant that Jisung was also, probably, real._

_Minhyun locked his phone and pulled himself out of bed. If that had all been real then it had still been strange. Minhyun had no idea how this Jisung person had known his name, or how he’d apparently known about Jonghyun being missing._

_It left a lot of questions. Minhyun wanted to ask those questions, or more accurately, he wanted to find Jonghyun no matter what, and Jisung was so far his best chance at that. Jisung seemed like a genuine kind of guy. Minhyun couldn’t help but think he really did just want to help, even if the situation was weird and him knowing what he did should ring a few alarm bells. If Minhyun’s assessment of him was wrong then, well, Minhyun knew how to look after himself._

_After making his sure his tears had dried he made himself tea- purposefully not looking at the jar of instant coffee in the cupboard that was Jonghyun’s. The tea was supposed to have calming properties or something, he didn’t think that was really true, at least not in his experience, but it did calm him to have something to do with hands._

_While the water was boiling, he sent a text back._

_Minhyun:  
_ _Are you going to explain to me how you know the things you do? And why do you want to help me?_

  _He placed his phone on the counter as he poured the water into a cup, but he kept glancing at it, waiting for an answer. It didn’t take long, but it felt like there was a clock somewhere loudly ticking away each second until his phone lit up._

 **_Unknown:  
_ ** **_It’s kind of hard to explain. Basically, I have a power too, like you do. I didn’t mean to use it, but when our hands touched I found out everything about your life until now. I’m sorry. I know it’s an invasion of privacy. If I could forget it now, I would, but I can’t. As for why I want to help you, It’s just because I know you need it._ **

_Minhyun had never met anyone except for his friends who could do things like they could. They’d talked about it, before. They’d wondered if they were the only ones in the whole world, and if they were how they’d ended up all coming together before even knowing it. Minhyun didn’t believe in things like fate, but that had felt like the only explanation. But apparently there was at least one other person like them, and they lived in the same city. Minhyun supposed it wasn’t fate after all. They didn’t have things like fate on their side, despite the things they could do they were just as insignificant to the universe as any other person._

_Or, maybe, said a little voice in the back of Minhyun’s mind that was the one tiny piece of hope he still had, this was fate too._

_Even if it was not, it was a pretty good coincidence._

**_Minhyun:  
_ ** **_How exactly are you planning to help me?_ **

_The text he got in response came up as Jisung instead of unknown because he’d saved the number, which was a pretty good sign that he was already willing to do this even if he didn’t understand it all yet._

**_Jisung:  
_ ** **_I may not be helping you as a police officer but I do still have the training and experience. That and trust me when I say that we have better technology than the police. Also, I kind of think it would help you to have a friend._ **

_Minhyun chose to ignore the last part for now. He didn’t need friends._

**_Minhyun:  
_ ** **_We?_ **

**_Jisung:  
_ ** **_That’s another thing that’s kind of hard to explain over text. Let’s just say that it seems like people with powers tend to stick together, huh? I have friends, a few of them live with me. Look, can we maybe meet sometime and talk about this? I feel like it will be easier._ **

_Minhyun hesitated at the mention of Jisung’s friends. He didn’t want more people knowing about Jonghyun. He was tired of people looking at him like he was something to be pitied, the police at the station had done it, his own friends did it even though they were dealing with it themselves, even Jisung had done it earlier, though Minhyun hadn’t understood what he was doing and why then._

_People didn’t need to pity him; Jonghyun would come back._

**_Minhyun:  
_ ** **_If you do me a favour and don’t mention this to your friends for now then yeah, okay._ **

**_Jisung:  
_ ** **_Okay, if that makes you more comfortable then I won’t. Are you free tomorrow?_ **

**_Minhyun:  
_ ** **_Yes_ **

**_Jisung:  
_ ** **_Okay, I’ll message you some directions to a café I know and meet you there at noon?_ **

**_Minhyun:  
_ ** **_Okay_ **

**_Jisung:  
_ ** **_See you there :)_ **

_Minhyun put his phone back down and picked up his cup. He guessed he was really doing this._

 

 

“I had a vision,” Minhyun says. It’s hard to say, four words shouldn’t explain why he is in the state he’s in now, but it’s all he can bring himself to say.

“Oh, Minhyun,” Jisung says softly. He moves to run a hand through his hair and Minhyun accepts the comfort. “It will be okay. It always wears off after a few hours, right?”

Minhyun shakes his head fiercely. He doesn’t know when he started crying, but there are tears squeezing out from under his closed eyelids. He doesn’t know when he closed them either.

“It’s not going to be okay,” He manages to say.

Jisung’s fingers are still in his hair. Minhyun wishes they would keep moving. He doesn’t need to be still, not right now. Minhyun needs to know that his friend is there.

“What?” Jisung asks. Minhyun has never heard him sound so worried before. He knows that Jisung worries about them all so much, he’s seen Jisung cry for them and he’s seen him fuss over them, but he’s never heard pure, raw fear in his voice like as he can right now. “Minhyun? What did you see?”

His hands are on his face again and Minhyun can’t tell if it’s him or Jisung that’s shaking. He wouldn’t be surprised if it’s both of them. He opens his eyes and looks at Jisung the best he can through his tears that are still falling.

“Blood,” Minhyun starts. He doesn’t want to remember. He wants this vision out of his mind for the rest of his life. But he can’t escape it. It’s going to happen and he can’t escape it. “Fighting. So many people, fighting. Sirens. Screaming. Blood. So much blood. Why was there so much blood, Jisung?”

He hears Jisung’s sharp intake of breath. “Minhyun...this vision...was it about us?”

Minhyun finds himself not wanting to answer. If he says it out loud then it’s true. But it’s true anyway.

“Yes. It was about us. It was about all of us.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You can use charcoal, paint, or graphite for this piece.”

Daehwi reaches for the charcoal on the table. This is about the third time Mrs. Kwon has gotten them to draw fruit this week. Daehwi hopes she’ll switch things up soon, but fruit isn’t the worst thing to draw. At least it’s simple if you pick the easier fruits— Daehwi picks a strawberry. It’s cute.

He’s focusing on his drawing at least enough to not be distracted when the door opens, though he vaguely registers it.

“Uh, Mrs. Kwon?” Oh, Daehwi recognises that voice.

Daehwi looks up to see Bae Jinyoung talking quietly with Mrs. Kwon at her desk. It’s kind of strange since he knows perfectly well that Jinyoung— unfortunately— doesn’t take this class, or any other art class that would mean he was in this part of the building or has a reason to talk to Mrs. Kwon.

He watches— what he hopes is subtly— as Jinyoung hands a slip of paper to Mrs. Kwon. The teacher reads it carefully before sending Jinyoung a sweet smile, because while she may not be the best art teacher she’s a lovely woman.

Jinyoung smiles back at her before walking over and sitting in the empty chair across from Daehwi.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Daehwi blinks. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, well you said I should take art. It turns out it’s not actually too late in the semester to change electives, especially not when you imply you’re maybe being bullied by someone in the one you’re changing from. I thought, y’know, maybe I can at least try it. Unless you didn’t mean it, or don’t want me in the same class as you, in which case I’m sorry."

“No.” Daehwi smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.”

None of the other students react to a new student entering their class out of nowhere. They are all too invested in their sketches, besides, Jinyoung looks the part of an art student. He’s handsome with that dash of darkness that makes him seem deep and mysterious. Once he has his paints in his hand and is looking thoughtfully at the guava in front of him, he blends right in.

It’s nice, sharing a class together. Drawing the same thing is nowhere near as boring when you’re with someone else, even if neither of you are talking much while you get the work done.

The lesson appears to end sooner than usual. Daehwi’s charcoal strawberry is accurate to the one in front of him, if not very interesting. Jinyoung’s work is more stylised, but more fascinating to look at with its soft whirls of colour rather than Daehwi’s smudged grey.

“That’s very good, both of you,” Mrs. Kwon says before they leave.

Daehwi doesn’t miss Jinyoung’s smile.

They leave class together and start walking. This isn’t the direction of Daehwi’s next lesson. He doesn’t know if it’s the direction of Jinyoung’s either. He doesn’t stop them to mention it though.

“So, now that you’re not in class with those people do you think they’ll stop picking on you?”

“Probably not. It’s not like they kept it to in class before.” Daehwi hates how resigned Jinyoung sounds.

“Well what about the teacher you told? Are they gonna do anything?” Daehwi tried.

Jinyoung shrugs. “Doubt it. They didn’t even ask for names. For a school boasting its no tolerance policy they sure seem to tolerate a lot.”

“There must be something we can do.”

“Well you said you used to get bullied, right? How did you get it to stop?”

“I moved schools.”

“How?”

 

 

_The rough brick wall he’d been cornered against scraped the back of his head when he flinched. His eyes were squeezed shut but he could feel and hear the three kids that had chased him standing around. They’d picked on him in school a lot but this was the first time they’d decided to bother him outside of school, chasing him to an unfamiliar neighbourhood._

_“Come on Daehwi, why are you running? I thought we were friends?”_

_Daehwi could have laughed if he wasn’t trying to hold in his tears._

_He held his hands out in an attempt at defending himself as he sensed a punch was about to be thrown at his face. He was so tired of this. The bullying had been enough, but with everything else this week he just couldn’t do it. He’d been trying so hard to act like nothing was getting to him, but he was exhausted. He just wanted it to stop. He wanted these boys to leave him alone._

_He felt a pressure building up in his core, then suddenly he felt that whatever it was spread out and rush through his veins and out of the palms of his hands._

_He slowly opened his eyes and was greeted by a shimmering light-blue film surrounding him. He’d never seen something like it in his life._

_The fist flew towards him. It hit the blue film and rebounded so harshly that the boy fell to the ground. Daehwi watched, confused. Their voices floated to him, strange and distorted._

_“Oh my god, what the hell is that?”_

_“I don’t know! Lee is probably doing something! You know how weird he is!”_

_“Wait, I think I hear someone coming…”_

_“Oh man, we should get out of here.”_

_They ran off and the shield that had been around him shattered, disintegrating into nothing when it hit the ground. His legs have been aching since a few blocks away and when they finally gave out he slid down the wall and to the ground._

_“Hey, are you alright?”_

_Daehwi would have startled at the sound of a voice but he was too drained — both physically and emotionally— so instead he looked up slowly. There was a man crouching in front of him, a concerned expression on his face. _

_“I’m fine,” Daehwi says automatically._

_“Are you sure? You’re bleeding.”_

_Daehwi wasn’t aware of this. Most of his body hurt at this point._

_“Where?” He asked weakly._

_The man gestured to his arm. Daehwi lifted his hand to his own arm and his fingers came back with streaks of dark red._

_“I’m sure it’s no big deal.”_

_“You should still get it looked at. At least patch it up. I have a first-aid kit in my bag, hold on.”_

_Daehwi’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who just carries around a first-aid kit in their bag?”_

_“I’m a police officer- my name’s Jisung, by the way. It comes in handy,” he said, as if that perfectly explained it. Maybe it did, Daehwi didn’t know much about the police other than when he met them after his parents’ death, and again after his grandma’s death a few days ago._

_“Here you go,” Jisung handed Daehwi a roll of bandages and some antiseptic._

_He needed both hands to unscrew the cap, but when he tried a sharp jolt of pain went through the bloodied one. He let it flop to his side again immediately._

_“I don’t think I can do it.” He grunted through the pain. “Thanks, though.”_

_Jisung sighed. He wasn’t looking at Daehwi’s face but rather at the injured arm. “How did this happen?”_

_“Some guys who really don’t like me decided it would be fun to try and beat me up, the usual,” Daehwi said. “They didn’t directly do this though, I don’t think. I probably scraped it up on the wall or when I fell over running away.”_

_“Does this happen a lot?”_

_“The bullying or the injuring myself?” Daehwi asked flippantly._

_Jisung snorted a small laugh. “Either, I guess?”_

_“Yes.”_

_Jisung sighed again. “We should still do something about that cut.”_

_“Uh...you can fix it, if you want?” He offered, holding the bandages and cream out with his good arm. The cut really probably was no big deal — it stung like hell but he could handle it. Still, no one other than his grandma had cared this much in a long time, and Daehwi was kind of enjoying it. _

_“Uh...I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Jisung said sheepishly._

_Daehwi blinked. “Why not?”_

_Jisung had been so intent on Daehwi getting patched up, why was he backing out of doing it now? Did he not care as much as he acted like he did? Was he only taking pity on Daehwi but didn’t actually want to be near him?_

_“I, uh,” Jisung looked hesitant, but suddenly he looked up at Daehwi like a lightbulb went off in his mind. “Earlier...you made that forcefield, yeah?”_

_Daehwi’s brain short-circuited for a moment — not that it wasn’t already a little foggy with exhaustion and the toll of everything going on lately, though he tried not to let that show. _

_He knew what a forcefield was, of course, but he didn’t understand it in this context. It was a word from bad science-fiction movies, or something, not a word that had anything to do with basic, boring old him._

_But...what if…_

_“You-you think that thing was me?”_

_Jisung smiled then, amused and comforting, too bright for this dark street. “I know it was you,” He said. Daehwi wanted to ask why, wanted to ask how he could know that, but Jisung kept talking. “Well, I can do something kind of like that too. Only, what I can do means I can’t really touch other people...not unless they let me, anyway.”_

_“What do you mean?” Daehwi didn’t think he’d ever been so confused and intrigued all at once. “Will it hurt them? Will it hurt you? Why does them letting you make a difference? How do you go your whole life without touching people?”_

_He listened raptly while Jisung explained how his thing — he called it a power— worked. He knew that most people would probably dismiss what Jisung was saying as impossible, even crazy, but that thought didn’t even cross his mind. Maybe, despite everything, he was naive- or maybe he just wanted to believe. _

_“I-I don’t think I’d mind that,” He said when Jisung had finished._

_He didn’t think there was anybody who truly knew everything about him. Nobody cared enough to listen. He was just the kid with dead parents and now a dead grandma who most people avoided for whatever reasons they found not to like him. It sounded nice, to have someone actually know him, to have someone actually understand instead of having to act like it all just rolled off his back._

_He held the medical supplies out to Jisung again and the older man tentatively took them._

_Daehwi didn’t know what he was expecting to happen when Jisung reached out to start wiping the blood away — more lights, maybe? A montage of his life flashing before his eyes? Just a strange feeling? But there was seemingly nothing. The only thing that told him anything happened at all was Jisung’s words when he reached for the antiseptic cream. _

_“Do you really have nowhere to go?” He asked._

_Daehwi shook his head._

_After his parents had died he’d been sent to live with his grandma. It was okay like that, for a while, but she had been old (as grandparents tended to be) and she’d been unwell (as old people tended to be). A few days ago, she’d peacefully passed away, leaving Daehwi with no living family._

_“Can you tell me more? About that...forcefield or whatever you called it.” Maybe he was changing the subject but he was still confused and curious and wanted to know everything._

_Jisung seemed to want to keep talking about Daehwi’s living situation instead, but he humoured him._

_“Well, I only saw a little bit of it when I was walking down the street. I think it was a forcefield, though. It protected you, after all.”_

_Protected him. Daehwi had never been able to protect himself before._

_Daehwi tried to make it happen again, just to be sure this was real. He tried to call on whatever it was that he’d felt in himself when it had happened. He focused on that feeling he’d had before but nothing happened. He gave up with a slump._

_“It will be hard to control for now. But-” Jisung seemed to hesitate for a moment, but he continued just a second later like whatever he was thinking about was an easy decision to make, “I can help you learn to control it, though. If that’s something you want.”_

_“You’d really do that?” Daehwi asked._

_Jisung nodded, a smile on his face. “Sure I would. We probably shouldn’t do it here, though. You can come back to my house, if you’re comfortable with that? And you can stay the night, there’s a lot of spare rooms.”_

_“Yeah, that sounds really good.”_

_He ended up staying a lot longer than one night. When he moved in with Jisung, Jisung immediately pulled him from his old school and enrolled him in a private one. After that, Daehwi didn’t have to worry about bullies or not having a home and a family anymore._

 

 

“Jisung’s really done a lot for you, huh?” Jinyoung comments when Daehwi finishes his story.

Daehwi smiles. “Yeah, I really don’t know where I’d be without him.”

“I know where I’d be,” Jinyoung says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “I’d still be miserable hanging around my parents’ house all the time. I’d still be disappearing every five minutes.” He laughs. “And I wouldn’t know you.”

“Are you glad? That you know me?” Daehwi asks.

“Yeah.” Jinyoung smiles at him.

“I’m glad I know you too.” Daehwi beams at him. “I may not hate this school like I did my old one, but it’s gotten a lot better with you around.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’m glad that we finally started talking. I don’t know why it took us so long.”

“Well, we have plenty of time now.”

They walk for a bit longer with smiles on their faces. No other student spares them a glance, and it’s refreshing for both of them to just be able to go through the halls without worrying about someone starting some kind of problem.

“Hey,” Daehwi asks after a moment. “Where are we going?”

“Oh, I have no idea,” Jinyoung laughs.

Daehwi laughs too.

“We should probably get to class. I have science, you?” He asks.

“History,” Jinyoung sighs and goes to turn the other way.

“Hey!” Daehwi gets his attention. “I’ll see you after class? We can walk back to the house together.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Daehwi smiles. “See you then.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jinyoung frowns at the board in front of him. Mr. Jang has been talking about some war or another for twenty minutes now. Whatever it is he’s talking about is clearly a gruesome and dramatic affair, judging by the way he dramatically collapsed on the floor, complete with sound effects of gargling on his own blood, before getting up and taking a bow. He’s definitely winning all the awards for the most theatrical teacher, but between the dramatics Jinyoung struggles to actually follow along with what he says.

“The falklands war, page 33,” Yoojung, the girl who sits next to him, whispers.

Yoojung has been his saving grace in this class since it started. She always seems to know whatever it is that the teacher is talking about, though that isn’t because she understands him but instead because she is incredibly smart and knows most of the material already. Jinyoung wouldn’t call her anything less than a genius, and on top of that she is nice about it and happy to help her fellow students.

Jinyoung flips to the page and is relieved to find that what's written there actually makes sense. He scans the page and starts to dutifully and carefully print out notes so that even with their aspiring actor teacher he can hopefully at least scrape a pass before hopefully never having to suffer through another year of history. Really, a bunch of old dead people murdering each other for money and land could only be interesting for so long, and he thinks he hit that point in sixth grade.

He’s writing down the ridiculously long name of some general when a shrill, deafeningly loud ringing makes him flinch and rip the page with his pen. He drops it as his hands instinctively come up to cover his ears instead. He’s never heard an alarm like this before. It’s not the sound of a fire-drill. This is more urgent, somehow. Just the sound of it sends panic coursing through his system. The classroom around him is in immediate disarray, with students talking over each other and shoving their things into their bags.

“Sir, what is that?” Doyeon asks, more composed than most but worrying her lip between her teeth.

“That,” their teacher says, standing stock-still in the middle of the room and staring wide-eyed at the classroom door. “Is the emergency alarm.”

“Emergency? What kind of emergency?” Another student demands.

“I have no idea,” their teacher says. He claps his hands and seems to gather himself into some semblance of professionalism Jinyoung isn’t sure he’s ever had before. “Right, we need to evacuate. Leave your belongings behind and walk, not run, in an orderly fashion to the courtyard.”

Everyone scrambles to their feet. Most students stop for a split-second to swing their bags over their shoulders because not even the impending threat of an unknown emergency and a screeching alarm can convince a group of teenagers to leave their material belongings behind. Then, they all head to the door,

The halls are in chaos. Any orderly fashion their teachers were hoping for is thrown to the wind when everyone gets together, hopped up on adrenaline and confusion. The sound of feet pounding against the floor and students yelling back and forth to each other isn’t quite loud enough to fight against the alarm, so instead it all crashes into a cacophony of too-loud sounds grating against each other in the air.

Seeing the school in this state of dysfunction only serves to make Jinyoung’s own anxiety more palpable. There is too much going on all at once. He forces himself to think straight and heads in the direction to the stairs. Bodies are packed tightly, crashing into each other and shoving each other.

Jinyoung doesn’t have to worry about that, because although he hadn't been actively trying to he'd turned non-corporeal almost the second he got out of class.

Other people go through him like he’s nothing more than thin air. He can feel them, kind of, though he isn’t sure how to describe it. It’s like a phantom itch, or the intangible heaviness of exhausted limbs. A feeling that’s hard to ignore but barely there at the same time.

He runs. It doesn’t matter if no one knows he’s doing it. He just wants out of here as soon as possible.

Outside, it’s more organised. There are teachers gathering the students into organised lines by their year group. Jinyoung doesn’t join them, but he leans against the wall not far from everyone so he knows what’s going on without having to be overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people.

“What do you think happened?”

“Who knows. Probably some kind of drill.”

“Nah, I heard someone broke in or something.”

“Broke in? Into a _school_?”

“Apparently.”

“That’s ridiculous. I heard there was some kind of accident in the science lab. Like, hardcore deadly contamination or something.”

The science lab?

_Daehwi._

Jinyoung looks around urgently, trying to spot his friend somewhere in the crowd. There’s so many students milling around— he sees so many people he shares classes with, the kids who pick on him looking scared for the first time in their lives, Yoojung and Doyeon from his last class holding hands in the middle of their line— but he can’t find the one person he’s looking for. Maybe his class is still evacuating, maybe Jinyoung just looked him over in his hurry, maybe he wasn't even near whatever apparently happened in the science block, if something even did happen and students aren’t just spreading baseless rumours.

Jinyoung knows in his heart that none of this is true.

He runs back towards the school before he can think twice about it.

The doors haven’t been locked yet. There’s someone stood by, possibly on guard, but he lets Jinyoung slip past him like he’s not even there because as far as he’s aware Jinyoung isn’t.

Inside the alarm is still blaring. It seems louder now that it’s just him running through the otherwise deserted hallways. It presses in on him as he runs, sending warning signals to his brain that scream to go back, but he doesn’t even consider that.

The science block is on the bottom floor, thankfully. When he reaches it he sees a hall of empty classrooms and realises he has no idea which one Daehwi is in before he realises there’s what looks like a cloud of putrid, ash-grey fog swirling through the air.

He can’t tell where it’s coming from, exactly. All the doors are flung open after the students hurry to leave...except for one.

_Daehwi._

It was probably closed to keep the cloud out and by opening it he’d be letting it in, but he also has to get Daehwi.

He has to be quick.

And he has to turn corporeal again to turn the handle.

When he does, he realises quickly that this isn’t ordinary fog.

His senses are clouded with the acrid smell and it clouds his eyes quickly. It's only a few moments before he feels his nerves start to jerk and tears bloom in his eyes. There’s an intolerable itch blooming on what little of his skin is exposed.

Whatever this is, it’s very clearly toxic.

He pushes the door open and rushes inside, slamming it shut again behind him.

A small wisp follows him, but otherwise the air is clear again and Jinyong takes a grateful, gulping breath.

The eyes of the dozen or so students that were cowering in their seats snap to look at him.

He doesn’t look at any of them except for the one boy at the back who’s jaw drops at the sight of him.

“Daehwi!” He half-gasps, half-yells. He runs to him and wraps his arms around him gratefully.

“You’re okay,” He breathes. “You are okay, right?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Daehwi mumbles into his shoulder “What are you doing here, Jinyoung?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here? The entire school’s been evacuated.”

“Our teacher went out to find out what was going on. He never came back. We didn’t know we were supposed to evacuate, we didn’t know anything.,” Daehwi rambles.

Jinyoung takes another breath. All these students had been left here with no idea what was going on. The door wouldn’t hold forever. It isn’t made to hold out noxious gases, and the toxic cloud outside is probably already seeping through the cracks.

“We need to get out of here,” Jinyoung breathes.

They seperate then, and Daehwi looks up at him with wide-eyes.

“How?”

Jinyoung doesn’t know. Whatever rush of bravery lead him here is quickly starting to dissipate as he realises he’s absolutely clueless about what they’re supposed to do here. Still, there has to be something, there has to be a way out of here.

“I have an idea,” He says weakly. “Daehwi, you can make a forcefield. Then we can all get out of here and the...whatever it is out there won’t touch us.”

Daehwi practically jumps and his eyes skate around the classroom and all the other students who are still glancing curiously at the two of them.

“But-my powers not invisible. They’ll see. We can’t just leave them behind.”

“I know.” Jinyoung is surprised by the resolve in his own voice. “But we have to, right? With everything going on they’ll probably forget all about it, or just won’t question it...hopefully.”

Daehwi nods, it’s firm, but when he speaks a moment later it comes out shaky: “But...what if I can’t do it? What if I can’t hold it and get someone hurt?”

He looks at the fear in Daehwi’s eyes and feels his own resolve solidify. He leans his forehead against Daehwi’s. “You can do this. I believe in you.”

“Okay. Okay,” Daehwi breathes, and it sounds scared but it also sounds more even.

Daehwi plasters on a smile before turning to the scared, inquisitive faces of his classmates. “We’re going to get outside, okay? Just follow me and Jinyoung, and you’ll all be fine.”

Jinyoung is expecting some kind of fight. They’re just taking control here, and as far as anyone in this room knows they are no more capable than any other teenagers to deal with this. To his surprise, no one says anything and instead get to their feet. Fear does strange things to people, he supposes, or maybe they just trust Daehwi. Jinyoung knows he does. He wouldn’t tell Daehwi that he could hold a strong enough forcefield to let them escape if he didn’t believe it.

They’re standing in front of the door now and Jinyoung knows that nothing good is waiting for them on the other side. He should be scared. He is scared. But he doesn’t want to disappear, he wants to help these people and get them out of here safely. He wants to make sure that Daehwi, and these students he doesn’t know, don't have to be as scared as he is used to being.

“Are you ready?” He asks Daehwi.

“No. But I guess we have to be.”

“Yeah.” Jinyoung laughs a little. “I guess we do. Remember, you can do this.”

“...Okay...open the door.” Daehwi nods.

Jinyoung grasps the cool metal handle and pulls it open as fast as possible, like ripping off a band-aid.

Despite his belief, the code that runs deep inside every person making sure they keep themselves alive makes him brace himself for the onslaught of acrid gas again.

It never comes.

He opens his eyes and there is a shimmering blue forcefield surrounding them on all sides, a tiny bubble of a safe haven where they can breathe clean air. Jinyoung watches the cloud swirl against the forcefield, cascading across its surface. When you’re in no danger from it, it’s almost beautiful.

“I did it.” Daehwi has a wide, awestruck smile on his face.

“I knew you could.” Jinyoung smiles back. “Come on, let’s go.”

Daehwi leads them through the fog. They can barely see but these halls are muscle-memory by now. Everything’s going to plan until Jinyoung realises two things.

One: They’ve definitely left the science block and the gas is still surrounding their forcefield. It’s spread with no sign of thinning out in the process. Two: At some point, the alarm had been switched off and it’s silent, so silent that Jinyoung doesn’t miss the heavy footsteps that belong to none of them. They aren’t alone in the school.

The way Daehwi turns to him with sheer, unadulterated panic in his eyes tells him he’s not the only one who’s noticed.

“Whoever they are, they’re coming this way.”

The footsteps land strong and steady. They aren’t weakened by the storm of poison outside. That can only mean they’re the cause of it.

This isn’t ordinary fog. This is someone’s power.

For now, the forcefield is holding but to keep it that way Daehwi needs to stay focused on it. He can’t do that if he’s being attacked.

The other students huddle closer, relying on the only people they have right now for comfort.

One boy is crying.

“Daehwi, get somewhere safe as soon as possible and call Jisung okay?”

“I- what? What do you mean? What are you going to do?” Daehwi screeches, hoarse and desperate.

Jinyoung smiles. He’s glad that even for this short while he’s been able to call the boy next to him a friend.

“Remember I believe in you,” he whispers. “I’ll see you soon. We still need to walk home together.” He places a gentle kiss on the top of Daehwi’s head before letting himself slip away and running out of the safe-haven of the forcefield to distract whoever is out there.

 

* * *

 

 

Seongwoo doesn’t look up when he hears Jisung’s phone ring. Jisung answers it with a smile on his face, and Seongwoo only starts paying attention when he feels Jisung’s mood drastically switch in less than a second. Whereas Jisung had been perfectly normal— if a little stressed, though Seongwoo didn’t know why— just a moment before, there is now an air of pure terror around him.

“Okay We’ll work this out. You’ll be okay, just wait,” Jisung whispers into the phone before the line is cut off.

“Jisung,” Seongwoo says imploringly. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Jisung’s smile has been wiped off his face that’s now pale as a ghost’s. His emotions are so strong they’re like an explosion in Seongwoo’s mind, distracting him from anything else. He’s scared, and sad, and a little lost. Seongwoo keeps his voice strong for him.

“There’s-” Jisung’s eyes are a little glassy and Seongwoo just knows he’s imagining the worst right now. “There’s something going on at the school. Daehwi and Jinyoung are in trouble. That was Daehwi, on the phone, asking for help. He sounded so terrified, Seongwoo.”

Seongwoo understands now. Of course, if anything could get Jisung in this state, it would be that someone— especially one of them— was in real danger. It is scary, but Seongwoo pushes his own feelings away for now.

“What kind of danger? What did he say, Jisung?”

Jisung explains what Daehwi told him. Daehwi had understandably struggled to explain the situation through his panic; he just made three things clear, that there was some kind of unbreathable gas in the air caused by some kind of power, that he was currently hiding in the library with a group of other people, and that Jinyoung was in danger.

“We need to go to the school. If it’s a power then no one else will know what to do. We need to help them,” Jisung finishes.

Seongwoo knows he’s right.

Together they call everyone else to the living room and explain the situation as well as they can. Understandably, there’s immediately a strong air of shock and concern radiating off of everyone in the room.

“So, the first question is, who’s coming along?” Jisung has managed to bury his own fear for now. He is their leader, and he knows it and as much as he may joke about it he has always accepted that role and all the responsibility it carries.

Every hand in the room goes up unhesitantly.

“Woojin? Are you sure? You’ve never done this before,” Jisung directs at the boy whose hand is still in the air.

“I’m sure.” Woojin nods. “Daehwi and Jinyoung are my friends.”

“Okay,” Jisung accepts. “Just be careful out there. Stick with us.”

“The main problem we’re facing right now is that the air in the school is apparently completely unbreathable. We won’t even be able to get to Jinyoung and Daehwi through it.”

Guanlin looks at them, despite everything there’s that smile on his face that says he just got an idea. “Leave it to me.”

Guanlin vanishes upstairs and the rest of them sit and go through plans and ideas, making backup after backup in case something goes wrong. It isn’t long until Guanlin comes back to them, carrying a pile of something silver and bronze in his arms.

“They’re like….electronic gas masks, I guess? I also made it so that they double as communication devices, in case anyone gets lost or whatever, and this— ” He picks up something else, much larger “— will hopefully purify the air. I might have to modify it when we get there, though, it’s hard to tell it exactly what it needs to know when I don’t entirely know myself. Better to find Daehwi and Jinyoung first, probably.”

It never fails to surprise Seongwoo what Guanlin can do with a few minutes and some scrap parts.

“Are we ready, then?” Seongwoo asks.

He doesn’t need his power to know that everyone is nervous right now, even those of them that have plenty of experience with this kind of thing by now. The anxiety in the room is palpable. Still, Jisung nods and says “We’re ready.”

 

From the front entrance, the school looks practically idyllic. There is absolutely no sign that anything out of the ordinary is going on inside. The red brick walls appear to hold nothing inside except books and classrooms and happy students.

Appearances always were deceiving.

They place the masks Guanlin made for them over the their faces  before even thinking about going inside. When Seongwoo does so he hears a small crackle in his ear indicating that the comms system Guanlin had put in is online and functioning.

“Okay-” Seongwoo hears Jisung’s voice in his ear rather than out loud, despite the fact the man is standing right next to him. “Let’s go.”

They open the double doors and immediately a cloud of gas too thick and grey to see through rushes for them. The mask leaves their faces protected but Seongwoo feels it hit his hands and is immediately assaulted with the sensation that his skin is burning. It’s painful but he’s going to have to bear it.

“Maybe you kids should turn back,” Jisung says, sounding like he’s in pain himself.

Seongwoo hears multiple voices through the comms all at once. It’s clear they’re all refusing. He’s not surprised, those kids are damn stubborn.

“Okay, the library is on the bottom floor. Go straight on for about a minute then take a left and we’ll be in the right corridor,” Sungwoon says. Thank god he used to go to this school or they’d be screwed trying to find their way around.

They try to be as fast as possible without letting their guard down. As well as their own discomfort each time a tendril of gas touches their skin there’s the fact that their friends are waiting for them.

They can’t see where walls end or doors begin, but Sungwoon remembers. They push their way into the library. Inside, it’s clear enough to see and their skin can breathe, but there’s still the start of a cloud swirling around them where the contaminated air has gotten in. They don’t pay that much mind when they spot Daehwi, sat on the floor between two tall shelves, a group of other kids with him.

“Guanlin, do you think you can get that machine to work now?” Jisung asks.

“Yeah. Just give me a second.” Guanlin’s voice is already ripe with focus as he pulls the thing from earlier out of his backpack and sits down to work.

“Okay, you do that. We’ll go talk to Daehwi.”

Approaching Daehwi is like approaching a wild animal. Seongwoo imagines that is would look much the same— wide, frightened eyes, shaky limbs, jumping back at the slightest noise before it realises it's in no danger.

“Daehwi?” Jisung coaxes gently. “Are you okay?”

“I-I-“ Daehwi hiccups. “Jinyoung…”

“Where is he, Daehwi?”

“He ran out into the fog. There was someone out there and they were probably the one doing this and he just- he ran out! I think he was trying to get them away from us, I’m not sure, he just ran out and I couldn’t go after him because-“ Daehwi gestures frantically to the group of other students around him.

“It’s good, okay? It’s good that you didn’t go after him and called us instead.” Jisung sounds so careful but Seongwoo knows there’s tension in every part of him right now. “Guanlin? Is it clear to go outside yet?”

“Hold on!” Guanlin shouts. “It’s more complicated than I thought.”

They don’t have time to wait.

“I’ll go find him,” Seongwoo says.

“It’s not safe out there,” Jisung immediately replies.

“Really? I had no idea.”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “Keep in contact through the comms, even if nothing happens, okay?”

“Sure. If I don’t say anything for five seconds you’ll know I’m dead.”

Jisung shakes his head.

It’s as hard to see as ever outside. He tries to ignore that and the tingling on his skin as he wanders through the fog. He doesn’t know where to start looking but he lets himself focus for a moment and then he can feel it. There is a faint wave of emotion somewhere here, too far away for him to know what exactly it is. It isn’t coming from the library where his friends are, it’s another signal, coming from somewhere upstairs.

It guides him like a willo-the-wisp through the fog. He stumbles on the stairs and almost walks into a wall or two but he can feel the source of the emotion getting stronger. Eventually, somewhere on the second floor, he can not just feel but can hear another person moving around.

“Jinyoung?” He asks tentatively.

It’s silent for a moment, then a voice replies “Who’s Jinyoung?” and yep, that’s a boy’s voice but it definitely isn’t Jinyoung.

Seongwoo is immediately on edge. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up. No one should be able to function in this environment, not unless they have something protecting them or…

“You’re the one doing this,” Seongwoo says flatly.

“Yeah.” Surprise, confidence. “I am. It’s incredible, right?”

Seongwoo knows that feeling. When you first realise you can do something that you never thought was possible, that as far as you know no one else can do. It’s a strange, specific kind of rush that only wears off when you adjust to it and realise all the bad it can do.

“You’re hurting people.”

The boy laughs. “So what.”

“So what? So you’re hurting them! Innocent people!”

“They’re not that innocent. They’re all assholes.”

“Not all of them, i’m sure. And that doesn’t mean it’s okay to do this.”

“You don’t get it. You don’t get what it’s like to have the people around here make your life hell!” There’s anger. So much anger.

“Have you seen Jinyoung?” Seongwoo tries again.

“I told you, I don’t know who that is. Is he the guy who started fighting me? If so, he couldn’t breathe in this air as well as you apparently can.”

Seongwoo feels panic start to grasp him. He can’t let himself continue being distracted, he needs to find Jinyoung now but how can he when he can’t see anything.

“Guanlin, do you have it working yet?” He asks, hopefully quiet enough that the other person in the room can’t hear him.

“Not yet. Whatever this...stuff is, it’s still being created. Every time I start to get rid of it more just takes it place. Unless we find the source and stop it I don’t think i’m gonna be of any help here,” Guanlin rambles. “Did you find Jinyoung?”

“No,” Seongwoo admits. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back down in a second, okay?”

Seongwoo focuses back on the figure somewhere in the room with him. He focuses on all that bitter anger rolling from it. Anger— Anger is a secondary emotion. There’s something underneath that anger. Seongwoo looks deeper and realises it’s sadness. At the very root of it, sadness is making them do this, as if they aren’t just going to cause misery to so many others by doing it. Seongwoo snorts- emotions are such stupid, fickle things, driving people to selfishness. He knows this more than most, and knows it applies to everyone, even himself.

He doesn’t understand quite how his powers work. Using them is simply instinct to him. In his head, he envisions it kind of like a series of sliders, each one labelled with an emotion. He simply has to start pushing the slider for sadness up and the one for anger down— okay, so maybe he could simply turn the anger down, but emotions were stupid, fickle, and always there. For whatever reason, he couldn’t just leave someone feeling absolutely nothing. People have to feel something, no matter what and no matter how small. Right now, with the sadness already simmering below the surface, it’s easier to use that. Sue him, he doesn’t have the time to go digging around for something objectively more pleasant.

Seongwoo still can’t see through the fog, so the only indication he has that his power is working is the pained, whispered “what” he hears.

“Wh-what’s happening to me?”

Seongwoo doesn’t say anything in response. He knows it only gets worse from here.

“I- I...it just wasn’t fair! They always made fun of me, and pushed me around, and no one did anything about it. Why? Why didn’t I matter?” Seongwoo can hear the tears and sobs, and still he stays silent and keeps going, heightening the sadness even more.

“They didn’t even believe me! They-” The words are cut off by a heaving sob. The next sound is of the guy giving up on standing and crouching down on the ground to cry.

Seongwoo follows the sound. He crouches in front of what he hopes is the boy’s figure, though the boy doesn’t acknowledge him.

“If it counts for anything,” He says, “I do feel kind of bad for this now.” Then, he knocks the kid out.

He sits back and sighs into the comms: “The source is...incapacitated. The machine should work now.”

“On it.”

Slowly, the air starts to clear up. Seongwoo begins to be able to make out tables and chairs. He knows that he’s in a classroom of some kind. When the fog is almost all gone. He spots a third person in the room, laying motionless in the corner. Seongwoo doesn’t need to get closer to know who it is.

“Jisung,” He says into the comms. “Get up here. Now-and bring Daniel.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I didn't update for like a month on the worst possible chapter to do so on when I left the last one on a cliffhanger. I really didn't mean to but a mixture of real life stuff and writers block murdered me I'm sorry.
> 
> I have a playlist for this fic I really only have it to listen to while I'm writing so it's kinda messy but here it is if anyone's interested  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/1141430791/playlist/2qdBruk6JfYtpB1UHk8C8g

“Drink some coffee, Jaehwan.”

Jaehwan doesn’t look away from the stark white wall he’s been staring at for the past who knows how many hours when he says “Thanks.” and takes it.

A heavy sigh comes from next to him. He shifts as Jisung sits next to him.

“Did the doctors come say anything yet?”

Jaehwan shakes his head. “How bad do you think it is?”

“He’s going to be okay,” Jisung says. Jaehwan knows it’s nothing but empty hope.

“We’ve never had a problem Daniel couldn’t heal before.” He says weakly, knowing that that’s empty hope too.

It was one of the most terrifying moments Jaehwan ever experienced. Daniel had knelt over Jinyoung, trying to heal him, but absolutely nothing happened. Jinyoung was hurt beyond what Daniel was capable of healing. Daniel kept trying, but slowly any hope they’d been holding on to  drained out of them. Eventually they said something they’d never had to say since they had met each other.

“Call an ambulance.”

Jinyoung was rushed to the emergency room. The paramedics didn’t stop saying things as they lifted him into the ambulance, but Jaehwan didn’t take any of it in; it was more like painfully loud static than words. When Jinyoung had been taken away under blaring sirens, everyone but Jisung— who had gone as the most responsible adult out of all of them— and Daehwi, who wouldn’t let go of Jinyoung’s hand— followed in an uber. Since then, it’s been god knows how long of sitting on hard plastic blue chairs, looking at bleach white walls, just waiting.

They’ve been mostly silent, except for the choked sobs which go ignored both out of courtesy and because none of them know what to say.

It’s a kind of silence Jaehwan isn’t accustomed to. It isn’t awkward, or tense...it’s just...lingering.

“I know. I also know we’ve always known he can’t heal everything.”

Jaehwan seeks Daniel out now. He finds him curled up in his seat, knees drawn to his chest and head buried in his knees. Jaehwan idly wonders how he can fit his whole body in the undersized chair, but then again he looks smaller than he really is right now— too small.

Seongwoo has an arm draped over Daniel’s back. He too hasn’t spoken a word since they got here. It’s been hours— or at least, Jaehwan thinks it has. There’s a clock on the wall and his phone in his pocket but he hasn’t actually checked the time on either of them. He’s done nothing but stare at the wall, wrapped up in the blank of his mind.

A doctor comes into the room then— not that Jaehwan really notices until she’s standing right in front of them.

“You came in with Bae Jinyoung, correct?”

“Yes,” Jisung answers for them.

“Are you family?”

“Yes,” they all answer.

It’s doubtful she believes they’re family in the way she meant— the way formed by blood rather than the things that actually matter. There’s too many of them, too close in age. Thankfully, she doesn’t fight against it, though he’s interested to see some of their reactions if she did.

“We’ve done all we can for now.” is what she says instead.

“So...is he okay?”

“He’s stable. We won’t know how extensive the damage is until he wakes up.”

“What the-“ he cuts himself off before he says anything he shouldn’t. Only because a look from Jisung tells him that if he does he’ll be kicked out of the hospital, which is one of the last things he wants. “What does that mean?”

“It means that poisoning like this can have a lot of effects,  both short-term and long-term. We couldn’t identify what it actually was that poisoned  him other than- from your reports- some type of gas. That leaves us with a lot of uncertainties on what those effects could be going forward until we either have more information or can observe him ourselves.”

That isn’t good enough. If he’s okay then shouldn’t he just be okay? Why do they need to worry about more. Why does there have to be more to be scared of? Haven’t they all been through enough?

Jaehwan feels a hand curl around his own. He didn’t see Seongwoo get up from Daniel’s side, but he’s in the chair next to him now.

“Don’t be angry, not right now. It’s not what Jinyoung would want.”

“Jinyoung’s not even awake to see it.” Jaehwan argues.

“Still,” Seongwoo says.

Jaehwan deflates. Seongwoo’s right. For now he should just be happy that Jinyoung is alive. He should be a reassuring presence for when he wakes up. But he can’t let go of the anger burning inside him. He’s confused. He’s scared. He’s using his anger to express those things because it’s the easiest way for him to and he doesn’t know how to stop.

“Can you- can you,” Jaehwan takes a deep breath, he never expected he’d be asking this. “Can...can you make it so that I’m not angry?”

The only other time he’s even considered asking Seongwoo to use his powers on him is to get rid of the feelings he carries for him and Daniel. He wants to get over them, he’s tried. But asking Seongwoo to do that would mean revealing he holds these feelings in the first place. Also, there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to lose them at all. As much as it hurts (and _fuck_ , sometimes it really does hurt) what he feels for them is one of the strongest and best things he’s ever experienced. He doesn’t think he would truly want to lose this unless he somehow finds someone else he loves (and he’s been so hesitant and so afraid of calling it love, because that’s such a strong word and he’s not even in a relationship with them, but with Seongwoo’s hand on his own he forgets the logic he normally tries to hold himself to) as much as them or the feelings were quite literally killing him.

Seongwoo looks more shocked than Jaehwan has ever seen him. You’d think Jaehwan had told him something awful rather than simply asked a question.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Seongwoo doesn’t sound judgemental, just uncharacteristically _careful_.

“Yeah.” Jaehwan nods minutely. “At least for now. When we’re out of here you can let me go back to normal and I’ll find another way to deal with it.”

If Seongwoo is still hesitant to fulfill his request then he doesn’t show it. Actually, Jaehwan isn’t sure what the emotion that flashes on his face is. “You know to do this I have to fill you with another emotion to the same level as the one I’m replacing. Any requests on what you want to feel?”

Jaehwan ponders the question for a moment, but really it’s easy. He knows what his favourite feeling is, even if it’s not one he outwardly shows often. “Love. Not necessarily the romantic kind, but the kind I feel for all of you. I don’t know what type of love to call that.”

Seongwoo nods like he knows exactly what Jaehwan means.

“Okay. Ong’s emotion radio coming to you live from Southway City, now turning up the love.”

The change is slow, but he can feel the anger slowly slipping away. The anger was a burning heat but now it’s being replaced by a soft warmth. He’s moved away from the burning fire and lead to a simmering fireplace, one that has a family gathered around it on a cold evening.

He knows it’s over when Seongwoo’s expression goes lax, a soft smile replacing his concentration.

“Thank you,” Jaehwan says.

“No need. It’s a nice thing to feel from you.”

He doesn’t know how to take that, but right now it doesn’t matter.

“Can we see him?” Jisung asks the doctor from his other side.

“Yes. He may not wake up for a few hours though, maybe not even until tomorrow.”

“We understand.” Jisung nods.

“We’ve placed him in room 101 for now. I’ll leave you to it. Take your time,” She bids them a hasty but thoughtful goodbye.

“I guess we should go,” Jisung says. He’s so strong in this moment, although Jaehwan knows how much he’s always feared something just like this happening. “Unless any of you don’t feel up to seeing him right now. It’s perfectly understandable if you don’t”

“It’s Jinyoung. We’re going.” Sungwoon says. Jaehwan has always admired his fearless determination.

No one argues. He wonders how he was lucky enough to find people so caring and brave.

The walk to the hospital room is taken is silence. When they reach the open door, everyone holds their breath.

Jinyoung has always been skinny, but he’s never been _small_ . Even quiet, even hiding, he’s always had a special kind of presence. Now, though, drowning in the starch white sheets and off-blue hospital blanket, he is tiny — he’s so _young_. His skin has a sickly pale tone over its usual colouring. His hair hangs limp around him.

It’s as if the Jinyoung he’s always known has disappeared.

Daehwi runs to his bedside first and clasps Jinyoung’s pale, unmoving hand in his own.

“Jinyoung...Jinyoung-“ he sounds on the verge of tears. “You idiot! Why the hell did you run out there?! You said that we had time! You can’t say that and then make me lose you! I can’t do that! I can’t lose you too…” It’s one of the few times Jaehwan has seen Daehwi actually cry.

“You’re not going to lose him, Daehwi. The doctors said that he’s going to be okay, remember?” Jisung says, stepping into the room.

Daehwi turns to him, and there’s tears dripping down his face but there’s also something else, something Jaehwan has never seen on Daehwi’s face. It’s the same thing that he was feeling just a minute ago- anger.

“She said he’d _live_. Not that he’ll be okay. We have no idea if he’s going to be okay. It’s- It’s not fair! He doesn’t deserve this! None of this has ever been fair!”

“I know it isn’t fair, Daehwi. I’m sorry.” Jisung seems lost for what to say.

Daehwi calms down a little at that. His voice lowers from a shout to a steely whisper and he looks up at Jisung with teary eyes. “...do you really think he’s gonna be okay? I’m not a kid, you can tell me the truth.”

“I can’t make any promises. But I believe he will, yes.”

Daehwi turns back to Jinyoung without replying.

“Maybe we should give him a few minutes,” Jisung whispers to the rest of them

They let Jisung lead them out of the room. Jaehwan doesn’t pay attention to where they go, but they end up at a tiny cafe portioned into the hospital like it was never supposed to be there. None of them can even think about eating right now, but they find a table they can only just fit around and no one calls them out for not buying anything.

After a few moments of silence, Guanlin mumbles: “I don’t see why we had to leave.”

“Daehwi needed time,” Jisung answers. Jaehwan doesn’t think he’s ever heard the older man sound just so exhausted.

“Yeah, well, Jinyoung is my friend too! He matters to all of us! Why do we need to leave our friend just because Daehwi decides to freak the hell out?”

“It’s harder for him-” Jisung starts.

“Then he should rely on us! Not push us out!” Guanlin stands up. “He’s being selfish!”

“He’s not being selfish. He just needs time.”

“Yeah, well so do I,” Guanlin huffs. “I’m going for a walk.” He leaves the cafe before any of them can stop him.

Jisung starts crying— not with a single tear but a sudden and immediate breakdown.. “I can’t...I can’t do this on my own right now.” he sobs.

“What do you mean?” Minhyun asks quietly.

“I mean I just...I can’t right now, Minhyun. Can you do me a favour?”

“What’s the favour?”

“I need a few minutes alone. Can you take care of everyone while I’m gone?”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re the only one I trust to do this right now,” Jisung says.

It’s fair. Daniel isn’t an option right now. He hasn’t so much as looked at them this whole time. Seongwoo has been leading him around by the hand. Jaehwan isn’t sure he even knows what’s going on (It’s killing Jaehwan to see him like this. He wants to talk to him. To check on him. But he just hasn’t found an opportunity where it doesn’t feel like he’s intruding or putting Daniel above Jinyoung.) Seongwoo is busy looking after Daniel. It’s clear that most of his attention lies with Daniel right now and he doesn’t have enough to spare. Jaehwan doesn’t even consider himself capable of doing it. That leaves Minhyun or Sungwoon, and of the two of them (of all them, in fact.) Minhyun seems to be just a bit more calm and collected right now.

“I don’t think I can do that-” Minyun says weakly.

Jisung looks up at him sharply. “And here I thought you’d finally started to stop pushing us away. We may not be Jonghyun, but we need you, Minhyun!”

Jonghyun? Jaehwan is pretty sure that he’s never heard that name before. He has no idea what’s going on, but Minhyun goes from calm to furious faster than he can register.

“You promised me you wouldn’t mention him in front of everyone else!”

“I promised I wouldn’t do it _at first_! This is way later than ‘at first’ Minhyun. I don’t know what you consider us, but we consider you a part of our family. Family doesn’t keep secrets from each other!”

“Don’t they? I thought families were awful. Isn’t that why most of you are here?” Minhyun spits.

“Yeah, they can be awful. But we’re not like that. I refuse to let us be like that. So are you part of this family or not, Minhyun?”

Jaehwan has never experienced this kind of silence either. It weighs on the table heavy enough to crush them all if they so much as move wrong. Maybe it will anyway. Maybe that’s why nothing makes sense, why everyone’s acting so fucking weird, because slowly their minds are being crushed by a heavy weight pressing down on them.

“...I’ll look after them,” Minhyun says thickly. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yes, but I’d like you to say it anyway.” There’s still tears pooled in Jisung’s eyes but there’s maybe a hint of a smile too.

“If you guys want me, then yeah, I’m a part of this family.”

“Of course we want you,” Jisung says. “I’m going to go get some fresh air now. I need to...I need to stop crying.”

Jisung leaves, and Jaehwan’s never realised just how few seven people seems to him now that they’re left here.

“Who’s Jonghyun?” Jihoon asks. As far as Jaehwan is aware it’s the first time he’s spoken since they got here. He holds a different air than the rest of them, less shock and sorrow and more— well, Jaehwan doesn’t know. His face has been carefully expressionless, but Jaehwan doubts his mind is as blank.

“Now’s not the time explain it,” Minhyun sighs. “I will though, I promise. I’m going to need you to promise me something too, though. Don’t look at me differently after I tell you.”

What the hell does that mean? Why would he look at Minhyun differently? _How_ could he look at Minhyun differently? Had he done something bad? If so, he wouldn’t be the first of them to at least feel that way, but he should also know they don’t judge each other by their pasts. Unless it was something _truly_ bad, but whatever this is — whoever _Jonghyun_ is — Jisung knows about it, and it’s not like he would bring Minhyun into their lives if he was an awful person. It’s not like Minhyun _could_ be an awful person.

Part of Jaehwan wants to demand answers, wants to annoy Minhyun until he has no choice but to tell him what’s going on. But he doesn’t. He trusts that Minhyun will tell them whatever secrets he’s been holding onto when the time is right. It’s not like he can judge Minhyun for secret-keeping anyway. Hasn’t he been hiding the truth from them all too? With the exception of Sungwoon, he’s kept the fact he’s possibly in love with two of them as close to his chest as possible. It’s maybe not comparable, but Jaehwan can’t help but feel some kind of guilt over it. Is he a hypocrite for being upset that Minhyun has kept something from them when he’s done the same?

“Yeah, okay,” Jaehwan nods.

“Tell us whenever you’re ready,” Sungwoon agrees.

There’s subtle murmurs of agreement from everyone at the table except Daniel— God, is he even aware of what’s going on right now or is he trapped silently in his own mind?— and Jihoon, the person Minhyun had been speaking to in the first place.

“Of course not. Just keep your promise.” Jihoon nods once.

Minhyun nods back.

“I’m going to go check on Daehwi,” Minhyun sighs, getting to his feet. “I’ll be back soon.”

 

* * *

 

Jihoon wonders what the point of being powerful is if it’s useless when you actually need it. Jinyoung is hurt. One of his friends is hurt. He could have _died_. He swore to protect them, but in the end he’d done nothing — he wasn’t even in the same room when it happened. He can’t even make Jinyoung better now, not without an equal risk of making him worse that the stakes aren’t high enough to take.

Since they got to the hospital, in the long, empty hours they’d spent in the waiting room, he’s been thinking about what he’s supposed to do now. What can he do? Where do they go from here? Is there anything he can do to protect Jinyoung now?

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have a plan.

It doesn’t seem like any of them do.

“Are you okay?” He hears.

Jihoon looks over to where Woojin is sat at the table, only a now-empty chair away. After Minhyun had gone to check on Daehwi, the others had dispersed too. Sungwoon and Jaehwan to try and find Guanlin, and Seongwoo leading Daniel away, saying he was going to take him somewhere more private so they can talk.

It’s just Jihoon and Woojin now.

Park Woojin, who had dropped into their lives out of nowhere, who had followed them into a fight at the risk of his own safety to save Daehwi and Jinyoung, who is still screwing with Jihoon’s head even now.

“What do you think?” Jihoon asks carefully.

“I think that of course you aren’t okay, and that’s okay,” Woojin says. “I’m not really asking that. I’m asking if...I don’t know- if you want to talk, or something, about how you feel.”

Jihoon raises an eyebrow. “Talk...to you?”

Woojin lets out a strange huff. “Is the idea that hard to fathom? Well, you don’t have to. But I’ll listen, if you do.”

“Why would you listen to me?”

“Because I care,” Woojin says it so easily, but the words come as a shock to Jihoon.

He’s still...unsure about Woojin. He can’t say he trusts him yet, though he’s been slowly moving closer towards it, especially after he came with them to help Daehwi and Jinyoung. He doesn’t trust whatever Woojin is doing to him, though. He doesn’t understand why he suddenly loses control around him. He doesn’t trust words like these because he doesn’t understand why it’s affecting him so much.

“How do you feel?” Jihoon asks instead.

Woojin takes a deep breath. “I just want him to be okay. I want us all to be okay.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jihoon says quietly.

That's when Minhyun comes back. “I talked to Daehwi. We can go see Jinyoung now if you’re still feeling up to it.”

“Let’s go,” Jihoon says immediately.

“Okay. Help me find the others first?”

It looks like Sungwoon and Jaehwan were able to find Guanlin after all. They meet them just outside the closest door. The three of them are sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. They’re laughing when they find them, so apparently Guanlin is in a better mood.

“Hey,”  Minhyun says softly. “We can go see Jinyoung now.”

The laughter immediately subsides, leaving a heavier mood in its absence. It’s as if they’re suddenly reminded of where they are and why they’re here. Jihoon doesn’t know how they forgot but he wishes they hadn’t been reminded.

“Is he awake?” Guanlin asks.

“Not yet.” Minhyun shakes his head. “Maybe soon, though.”

Guanlin nods minutely and gets to his feet. Sungwoon and Jaehwan follow.

“Where are the couple?” Sungwoon asks.

“I texted Seongwoo. He said they’d be up in a bit,” Minhyun’s sigh is heavy, matching the looks on everyone’s faces.

They can all see how hard Daniel especially seems to be taking this. Jihoon thinks he gets it. He understands that Daniel feels like it’s his job to protect them, and that now he feels like he’s failed. He understands not just because he understands Daniel, but because he feels the same. The only reason that Jihoon hasn’t gone out and tried to burn the person who did this out of existence, or make it 100% probable that he’d spend the rest of his life writhing in agonising pain, is the fact that he’s spent his entire life learning to control himself and, more than that, because Jinyoung needs them by his side more than he needs revenge that he probably wouldn’t even want.

Daniel isn’t the type to even consider revenge. He’s the type to let things hurt him and only him. He may be good at controlling himself in that he can hide behind a smile, but it’s not the same and obviously this was enough to break him.

Jihoon only hopes that Seongwoo can put him back together again.

“And Jisung?”

“I found him first. He’s already gone up.”

Daehwi is where they left him. It doesn’t look like he’s moved even an inch. He’s clearly more relaxed though, and Jisung is at his side running a comforting hand down his back. Daehwi turns to look at them when they come in.

“I’m sorry,” He says.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jihoon replies without hesitation.

Hospital rooms aren’t designed to fit so many people in them. Luckily, this is a decent sized one and Jinyoung has it to himself, but Jihoon still ends up leaning against the wall with nowhere to sit, and he’s not the only one. Jihoon doesn’t really mind. Comfort is something he’s only experienced since he moved in with Jisung. Right now, it’s barely a concern in the back of his mind.

Most of his focus is on Jinyoung. He’s still sleeping. The only sounds are the low hum of the machines around him, wired to his body one way or another. Jihoon doesn’t know anything about medical care, at least not the hospital level stuff. He doesn’t know what any of these machines do individually except for the oxygen mask placed over Jinyoung’s face, but he knows that they’re working to keep his friend alive because his body isn’t doing a good enough job and that’s enough.

They all look up as a nurse enters the room. The nurse looks taken aback at the number of people in the room, but quickly collects himself and greets them with a smile that almost looks out of place in a hospital but looks perfect on his face.

“Hello! I’m Dongmyeong. I’m just here to do Jinyoung’s observations if you don’t mind.”

He ends up having to shift Daehwi, Jisung, and Woojin— who had taken up Daehwi’s other side— out of the way. They all retreat to the sides of the room and Woojin ends up swinging his legs up to sit on the window-sill, right next to where Jihoon is standing.

Dongmyeong fiddles around with some of the machines, making notes on his clipboard. Jihoon keeps half his attention on him and half on Woojin. Woojin seems engrossed in watching whatever it is Dongmyeong’s doing.

“Do you know what he’s doing?” Jihoon asks.

Woojin shakes his head. “He’s checking his blood pressure right now. I don’t know much else though. I’ve only been in hospital once. I broke my leg when I was fourteen. I don’t really remember anything except for Donghyun telling me to be more careful every five minutes between the bad jokes he was telling to try and cheer me up.” There’s a small smile playing on Woojin’s lips.

This is the first time Woojin has told Jihoon anything about the life he had before the day he showed up at their house in the middle of the night. Jihoon is surprised by the sudden openness. He wants to know more— to learn if he can truly give Woojin his trust, of course.

“Who’s Donghyun?”

The small smile drops as if it was never there in the first place. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Jihoon doesn’t want to leave it. He’s already reluctantly let Minhyun go with not telling them who Jonghyun was earlier. He’s done that because he trusts Minhyun with his entire being and because he’s always known that Minhyun had a past before them, that he must have had people who were actually important to him before they met, unlike himself.

Woojin...he doesn’t want to let this go. He’s spent so long with the need to understand Woojin. Now that’s being dangled in front of him on a string and he wants to snatch it and not let go. But...something stops him. Woojin looks so uncomfortable, and for some reason that stops him.

“Okay, he’s looking...surprisingly good.” Dongmyeong says. “Oxygen levels are understandably low, but his blood pressure and pulse are good enough, temperature too.”

The room lets out a collective sigh of relief.

“The doctor should be in shortly,” Dongmyeong tells them before bidding them goodbye.

It seems to Jihoon as if hospitals involve more waiting than they do treatment— or anything else at all. He doesn’t know how long he’s been leaning against the wall with nothing but his thoughts to keep him occupied, nothing but his family’s forlorn faces to look at, when he hears the groan from the hospital bed in the middle of the room.

Jihoon has never seen eight people come to life so fast at something so small.

Jinyoung’s eyes flutter open and Daehwi tightens his grasp on Jinyoung’s hand like a lifeline.

“What happened?” Jinyoung asks. It’s a little hard to hear him through the oxygen mask— maybe Jinyoung realises this or maybe it’s just annoying him because he immediately reaches to pull it off.

“You probably shouldn’t do that,” Jisung advises.

Jinyoung lets his hand fall back to his side.

“I don’t like it. It..smells weird in here.”

“It’s oxygen,” Daehwi laughs.

Jinyoung’s eyes are suddenly alert and he looks over to Daehwi faster than Jihoon thinks he should be able to.

“Daehwi, you’re okay.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” Daehwi breathes. “Thanks to you, you idiot.”

“Why am I an idiot?”

“You just ran out there! Why did you do that?” Daehwi doesn’t sound angry like he did saying words similar to this not long ago. On the contrary, he’s laughing, even if it’s not an entirely happy laugh.

“To make sure you’d be okay,” Jinyoung says simply.

“And are _you_ okay?” Daehwi asks.

“A little worse for wear,” Jinyoung says “But I don’t think there’s anything really wrong with me. When I realised I was passing out I thought I was a goner to be honest.”

“We’d never let that happen,” Jihoon says. “You scared the hell out of me, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. Just recover, and remember to call us first next time.”

“I could handle it,” Jinyoung says, but the smile on his face says he’s listening. “Did everyone get out of the school okay?”

“Yeah. We made sure they did. You have nothing to worry about, Jinyoung,” Jihoon tells him.

“What about Daniel and Seongwoo? Where are they?”

“They’re...they’re around. They’ll be here soon. Don’t worry about us, you’re the one in the hospital bed here.”

“I feel okay,” Jinyoung insists.

“Are you sure? Really?” Daehwi asks.

“I mean...I’ve felt better, but yeah. Mostly I’m just tired.”

‘Just tired’ is a lot better than it could have been.

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s not your fault.”

Daniel doesn’t know how many times Seongwoo has said this so far. He’s been repeating it into Daniel’s hair like it’s some kind of mantra. Daniel doesn’t think he’s replied, so he opens his mouth to do so now— maybe if he does, Seongwoo will stop lying to him.

“Yes it is,” Daniel whispers.

He feels Seongwoo freeze before whispering back “How?”

He doesn’t know how Seongwoo can ask that. It’s so clearly his fault. It’s his fault because he promised Jisung that he’d protect them. He was supposed to protect them— to heal them, it’s what he does. But the time came when someone really needed him and it turns out his powers aren’t strong enough. He isn’t strong enough to look after them. He let Jinyoung get hurt.

He failed Jinyoung.

He failed Jisung.

He failed all of them.

“You know how, Seongwoo! I should have been able to heal him!” Daniel stresses, though his voice is still quiet.

“All powers have limits and downsides, Daniel. None of us are all powerful— probably not even Jihoon, though we don’t know everything he can and can’t do yet. You can’t be mad at yourself for doing something you were literally physically unable to do!”

Daniel wishes that he could believe Seongwoo. He wishes he could agree. But there must be something he could have done. He should have done more, tried harder, done _something_.

“Please stop. It’s hurting me,” Seongwoo whispers.

“That’s not how your powers work,” Daniel mumbles weakly.

He’s right. Seongwoo doesn’t feel other people’s emotions, just senses them. Daniel has always been grateful for that. He doesn’t want Seongwoo to have to feel pain, ever, whether it’s his own or others.

“No. But I know that you’re hurting and that hurts me.”

“I’m sorry,” Daniel says. He doesn’t know what else to say. He seems to be hurting everyone today without meaning to.

“Don’t be sorry!” Seongwoo exclaims desperately. “Just...let me fix it, please?”

“You mean-?”

“I mean let me take it away. I mean let me make you happy. Please, Daniel,” Seongwoo’s begging is accompanied by his hands gripping tighter onto Daniel’s arms.

Daniel could do that. He could let Seongwoo take away everything he’s feeling right now. The pain, the guilt, all of it. It would be as easy as just nodding his head.

“No,” Daniel says.

But he deserves to feel this way.

“Please,” Daniel has never heard Seongwoo sound so desperate.

Still-

“No!” Daniel pulls out of Seongwoo’s embrace.

The sudden burst of strength leaves him as quickly as it came. He lies down on the chairs, curled up, not caring how uncomfortable it is.

Though he easily could touch Daniel again, Seongwoo doesn’t. As far as Daniel can tell, he doesn’t move from where he left him at all. They stay like that for a moment— Daniel doesn’t know how long— until he eventually hears Seongwoo sigh.

“Jaehwan text me asking where we are. He wants to come down. Is that okay?”

Daniel makes a noncommittal noise. He barely heard what Seongwoo said, if he’s honest. He spends a few more minutes zoned out, even though footsteps must have been approaching them he doesn’t notice that anything around him has changed until he hears a voice.

“Is he okay?” He’s not so out of it that he doesn’t know it’s Jaehwan.

He doesn’t hear what Seongwoo says in response, if he says anything at all, but next thing he knows Jaehwan’s fingers are carding through his hair from where he’s sat down next to Daniel’s head.

“Daniel?” Jaehwan talks quietly, slowly, as if unsure about what he’s doing.

Daniel doesn’t know if he responds or not.

“How’s Jinyoung?” Seongwoo asks.

“He’s awake.”

Daniel finally looks up then. His eyes meet Jaehwan’s above him. “He’s awake?” Daniel asks shakily.

Daniel can’t believe it. Jinyoung had looked _gone_ as Daniel had tried to heal him. He hadn’t shown the slightest reaction to Daniel’s powers, a first except for when Jisung had come down with a particularly nasty chest infection a few years ago. Daniel doesn’t really know the limits of his powers, but he knew that if they didn’t work it probably mean that the person was seriously hurt. Daniel had almost convinced himself that Jinyoung wasn’t going to make it, despite the doctor’s earlier claims.

“He seems okay, amazingly. Definitely a hell load better than I’d feared” Jaehwan nods. “You can go and see him if you want.”

Daniel crumpled in on himself again. Of course he wants to see Jinyoung. He wants to see with his own eyes that Jinyoung is okay. But he let him down. Jinyoung probably knows that. He probably woke up wondering why he was in a hospital instead of still at the school or safe at home. Jinyoung probably hates him. He _should_ hate him.

Daniel shakes his head.

Jaehwan just keeps moving his fingers through Daniel’s hair and says “Seongwoo?”

“I can’t leave Daniel alone here,” Seongwoo replies.

There he goes, messing things up, again. He shouldn't be lying here, so obviously upset. He should put on a smile and act like it’s all okay. But he doesn’t deserve to even fake happiness right now.

“I can stay with him,” Jaehwan offers. “If you’re both okay with that, that is.”

“Daniel?” Seongwoo asks.

Daniel shrugs as best as he can from his position. He doesn’t want to get in the way of Seongwoo seeing Jinyoung. It’s not like it’s Seongwoo’s fault that Daniel can’t. He’s fine here with Jaehwan. He’s only vaguely aware of other people’s presence at this point anyway.

“I’ll be back soon, babe.” Seongwoo places a light kiss on the side of Daniel’s head and walks away.

They are silent for a while. Daniel is aware of nothing except for the numb ache inside him and the feeling of Jaehwan’s fingers in his hair. He almost wishes Jaehwan would stop. It’s making him feel less awful than he should.

“So...how’s it going?” Jaehwan asks.

Daniel can’t help but laugh. He pushes himself up into a sitting position, it’s exhausting, but it means he can look at Jaehwan. “How’s it going? Really?”

Jaehwan laughs too. “Okay, maybe that’s a dumb question. I...don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Daniel sighs. “Jinyoung...is he really okay?”

“I mean...you heard what the nurse said, right?”  

Daniel nods. She’d said that there could be all kinds of problems that Jinyoung could end up  suffering and they wouldn’t be sure straight away. God, Daniel hopes there isn’t. Or he hopes that he’ll be able to fix these smaller problems even if he couldn’t help before. Maybe he can actually do something right.

“But as far as I can tell, he seems good. You should go see him. I’m sure he wants to see you.”

“You mean he isn’t mad at me?” Daniel asks.

Jaehwan looks at him. “Why would he be mad at you?”

“Because I couldn’t look after him. I’d promised Jisung I’d look after them but the time came and I just couldn’t,” Daniel sighs.

“Daniel, it’s not your fault.”

“That’s what Seongwoo said.”

“Yeah, well don’t tell him I said this but he’s right,” Jaehwan laughs a little. “Do you really think Jinyoung would blame you for this? Or _Jisung?!_ Come on, Daniel. It’s Jisung. You guys have been friends since...God knows when. How could you ever think he’d hate you?”

Even the darkest parts of Daniels mind have to admit that Jaehwan has a point. Jisung is...Daniel thinks that he only learned what being loved— really loved, with no conditions or expectations— felt like when he met him. Still, he’s scared. Daniel probably hasn’t been the perfect friend throughout all these years, but he’s never broken a promise like this. Maybe that fear is irrational, but he can’t let it go.

“Just come upstairs. Come see Jinyoung, it’s going to be fine.”

Daniel hesitates. His brain is an empty, throbbing numbness that he hasn’t felt in a long time. He doesn’t know what the right decision is. He doesn’t even know what his options are, if he’s honest. Thinking hurts. The idea of moving. Not having his friends next to him, it all hurts so much.

“Come on. I’ll be right beside you, and Seongwoo will be too,”

That thought gives Daniel the strength to move. When he stands Jaehwan curls his fingers through Daniel’s own. It’s nice— steady. He isn’t actually sure he could stand and walk on his own. As they get closer to the hospital room he feels the numbing ache increase, but he tries to plaster on a smile and not let it show.

He’s never been this scared— or scared at all— to be around his friends before, but at the same time it’s still a comfort to see them. He thinks maybe the reaction is innate at this point. They calm him.

“Hey,” Daniel whispers, standing in the doorway.

Everyone looks at him, but it’s Jinyoung he ends up looking back at. Jinyoung’s face lights up in a small smile when he sees him.

“Daniel,” he says. “I was wondering where you were.”

“I..uhhh,” Daniel doesn’t know how to explain that he was sat just a few feet away drowning in self-doubt. “How are you?” He asks instead.

He moves further into the room and Jisung vacates his seat by Jinyoung’s bedside and offers it to Daniel. Daniel looks at Jisung, silently asking him is he’s sure. Jisung gives him a warm, reassuring smile.

Daniel still thinks they should hate him, but apparently they don’t.

He decides not to focus on that for now and instead takes the seat offered to him. He takes a better look at Jinyoung. He looks tired, a little pale, but otherwise mostly okay. He wants to hear it from Jinyoung himself though.

“I’m okay. Really,” He says.

“Hey, that’s my job,” A voice laughs from the doorway.

Daniel turns and to find a woman with long dark-hair scraped up into a professional ponytail standing there.

“Sorry to interrupt,” She says. “I’m Kim Dani. Jinyoung, I’ll be your doctor.”

“Hello,” Jinyoung replies. There’s a few scattered responses from other people in the room too.

Doctor Kim comes into the room and Daniel and Daehwi both vacate their seats to let her get closer to Jinyoung.

“Now, you say you’re feeling fine so there’s my first question out of the way.” She smiles. “If you’re feeling up to it there’s some tests I’d like to perform.”

Jinyoung nods. “That’s fine, I guess.”

“Great! I’m afraid that a lot of the equipment we need to use can’t be brought in here. So we’ll need to move you. Do you think you can walk?”

Daniel watches as Jinyoung pushes himself into a sitting position. He can tell how hard just that is by the strain evident in both Jinyoung’s arms and his face. Still, he swings his legs off the edge of the bed. It almost seems like he’s going to be able to do it until he stands and immediately stumbles back onto the bed, landing with a frustrated sigh.

“We can get you a wheelchair.” Doctor Kim says it like it’s an offer, but it probably isn’t. Daniel hopes Jinyoung takes it either way.

“Why can’t he walk?” Daehwi asks, clearly worried.

“It’s nothing to be concerned about,” the doctor assures. “His body is just tired and disoriented. Once he feels stronger, all movement should go back to normal.”

Daehwi lets out a sigh of relief. Daniel shares the feeling.

“So, Jinyoung?” Doctor Kim asks.

Jinyoung seems to think for a moment, then nods, but the smile he’d held until now has dropped off his face.

There’s a whole tangle of things going on from there on out, but eventually they get Jinyoung into a wheelchair with his oxygen mask and IV drip still strapped to him.

“Can someone come with me?” He asks. It serves to remind Daniel just how young this boy is, just how much Daniel should be looking out for him, and the guilt he’d decided to push down just moments before comes back over him like a tidal wave.

“I suppose one person can. But I’m afraid they’ll have to wait outside when we actually take you in for tests.”

Daniel expects him to pick Daehwi to go with him, but he isn’t exactly surprised when Jinyoung says “Jisung, will you?”

“Of course,” Jisung replies.

They leave like that. It’s strange now. A group of people gathered around an empty hospital bed, like suddenly they’re not supposed to be here. Minhyun seems to agree because he says “We should eat something. It’s getting late.”

“You mean we should leave?” Jaehwan asks.

Minhyun shakes his head. “We’ll have to eventually, but I’m guessing we’re staying until they kick us out. We could go back to that cafe we were at a while ago though.”

In the end, they do as Minhyun says, though some of them rather reluctantly. Daniel doesn’t have the stomach for food right now, he doubts many of them do, but he trusts Minhyun and can’t help but agree this is probably a better plan than sitting in an empty hospital room.

He orders a boring, bitter-tasting coffee he can’t stand and some kind of toasted sandwich that probably came straight out of a packet and was tossed in a microwave. As he takes small bites he notices people talking around him, and though he doesn’t take any of it in it’s comforting, almost normal. He feels the lack of Jisung and Jinyoung's presence though. He wonders how the tests are going, but despite being able to heal a lot of things he doesn’t have even the start of the medical knowledge to know what they entail.

After a while they decide to head back. They don’t know if Jinyoung is back yet, but they may as well. Everyone’s eaten as much as they can— which for the most part isn’t much.

They walk upstairs and Daniel is one of the first to reach the door. He pauses when he sees that Woojin is already inside and remembers he’d excused himself to go to the bathroom as they left. He looks like he’s fiddling with one of the many machines around Jinyoung’s still-empty bed.

“Woojin?” Daniel gets his attention and Woojin turns to face him. Daniel isn’t sure what the look on his face is— he’s probably too tired to work it out.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, uhh, nothing,” Woojin replies.

Daniel let’s it go. His head is too numb to deal with this right now. It’s probably nothing, just his mind making perfectly normal things seem weird.

 

* * *

 

 

Sungwoon slips his phone out of his pocket to check the time, wincing when he reads it. He’d had a date planned with Taehyun tonight, and judging by the time and two missed texts, he’s half an hour late for it.

“I need to make a call. I’ll be back in a minute.” He tells everyone in the room, despite the fact that they’d only returned to it a couple of minutes ago. Most of them are probably barely listening, but those that are wave casually in acknowledgement and he slips out to the— thankfully empty, except for the nurses manning the desk at the other side— hallway.

The phone seems to ring forever before Taehyun picks up.

“Oh, hi, babe.” Sungwoon winces at his heated tone of voice.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Sungwoon groans.

“It’s fine,” Taehyun sighs, though clearly he doesn’t mean it. “If you’re not really that into me then-”

“Can you just let me explain?” Sungwoon explodes.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“My friend is in the hospital!”

“Oh, fuck,” Taehyun breathes, all of the previous anger immediately dropping from his voice. “Is he okay?”

“We’re still waiting for the doctors to say, but he’s alive.”

“What happened?”

Sungwoon regrets his outburst now. He doesn’t know how to explain the situation to Taehyun. He could probably come up with a believable enough lie, but that might just lead to more questions. Everyone who was at the school knew there was _some kind_ of emergency situation and no-doubt someone would investigate what it was. It was perfectly possible that whatever lie he comes up with will end up not matching whatever one the officials come up with. If Taehyun remembers that, It would be harder to come up with a web of lies to get out of it than it would to just refuse to explain now, or would it? He knows Taehyun is the determined type, getting him to let it go would be a whole other struggle in itself. He makes a quick decision on the easiest route-

“Car accident.”

-come up with a lie with absolutely no truth in it.

“Oh fuck.”

He feels bad about the lie immediately. Yeah, it’s not the first time he’s had to hide the truth from Taehyun, but lies about how he met his housemates or why Taehyun can’t come over feel white and meaningless in comparison to outright lying about this. It’s not like he’s lying entirely, Jinyoung _is_ in the hospital. He’d never lie about something like that. Still, the churn in his stomach and the ache that’s formed behind his eyes prove he feels profoundly uncomfortable even just lying about the details.

“Yeah. I’ve been at the hospital this whole time, that’s why I couldn’t make it.”

“Why are you there? You weren’t like, involved, right? Are you okay?” Taehyun rambles loudly and quickly and it serves to only build his headache.

“Yeah, Yeah, I’m fine. I wasn’t involved. I’m, uh, his emergency contact,” Sungwoon says. “Listen, I’ve got to go.” He doesn’t, technically, but he feels like he should. He wants out of this conversation. It’s too much to deal with right now.

“Yeah, okay,” Taehyun answers. “Call me again when you get home safe?”

“Okay, I will,” Sungwoon agrees quickly. “Bye.”

“Bye. I-“ Sungwoon hangs up before Taehyun can finish whatever he’s saying.

Sungwoon lets himself fall back against the wall and sighs. Today feels kind of like a fever-dream. In his head none of what happens seems clear. It’s a haze, like the thin wisps of fog in the library. He remembers _everything_ in perfect detail, but right now it doesn’t feel like any of it really happened. It shouldn’t have happened. One minute he’d been sat at home and then, suddenly, his life had been turned upside down.

He pushes himself up again and puts his phone back in his pocket. No matter how much of a mess today has been, he’s gonna not going to break down. He’s going to get through this.

He trudges back into the room. He knows he didn’t go far enough for his friends to not hear his side of the conversation, but none of them comment on it except for Daehwi when Sungwoon sits down next to him.

“Did he forgive you?” Daehwi asks.

“Yeah. After I lied to him about what happened, anyway,” Sungwoon sighs. “God, I know it’s what I have to do, but it fucking sucks.”

“Language, I am a _child_ ,” Daehwi laughs. Sungwoons glad to see him laughing again, he looked practically broken earlier. “Really, though, I’m sure you guys will work it out. I know I haven’t met him, but you and Taehyun seem good together”

“When did you become an expert on relationships?” Sungwoon huffs teasingly.

“Hey, I may have never dated, but I have seen The Notebook like four times.” Daehwi smiles.

“I’m sorry I doubted you.”

It’s only a few more minutes until Jinyoung is wheeled back in. Tension immediately swells in the room. They’re all waiting to know how the tests went but none of them want to come out and ask. Jinyoung lifts himself from the chair to the bed. It seems like it happens in slow-motion.Time slows as Jinyoung makes himself comfortable in the silence and by the time he is Sungwoon feels as if he’s aged twenty years. Dr. Kim smiles at him and politely sends away the porter who’d been pushing Jinyoung’s chair before she starts to speak.

“So far, our tests have shown no unexpected signs. However, we couldn’t fit in everything we needed to. As a safety precaution, I think it’s best Jinyoung stays with us as an inpatient for at least a few days while we conduct more.”

“So he can’t come home with us?” Daehwi’s face falls.

“Not tonight, I’m afraid,” She says, sympathetic. “Provided his results come back okay, it won’t be long though.”

Daehwi’s still clearly upset and his hand reaches out for Jinyoung’s again, but he nods in acceptance.

“I’m afraid visiting hours are already long over. I’m not expecting any of you to leave immediately, but you’ll need to start thinking about it.”

“We understand.” Jisung nods.

“So it all looks okay?” Sungwoon asks once the doctor has left to do whatever she does when she’s not with Jinyoung.

“Apparently,” Jinyoung mumbles. He seems tired but happy.

“Do you want to rest?” Jisung asks Jinyoung softly.

“I don’t want you guys to go,” Jinyoung answers, but his eyelids are dropping.

“So that’s a yes.” Jisung chuckles.

Jinyoung pouts.

“We’ll have to go soon whether you’re awake or not.”

“Hm, I know. I am tired, I guess.”

“Go to sleep then. We’ll be back during visiting hours tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Jinyoung is already letting his eyelids fall. He’s clearly more exhausted than he was letting on before.

They’d brought almost nothing with them to the hospital. The only person who even has a bag is Guanlin, and that’s only because he’d used it to carry his tech to the school and couldn’t leave it behind. It doesn’t take them long to get their stuff together at all, but still Sungwoon hesitates as much as he can. Jinyoung is basically alone here. Sure, there’s nurses and doctors in the hallway and patients in other rooms, but he’s still in this room and he’s still without _them._

They have no choice but to leave though, so Sungwoon drags his feet to the door and gives one quiet last goodbye to Jinyoung though he’s already asleep.

It’s disconcerting to step out of the hospital. They were only in there for a few hours, but it felt so much longer. It feels kind of like the world they’ve walked out to is different to the one they walked in from. It looks the same, but it feels wrong somehow, a near imperceptible shift.

It's not surprising, they’re eachothers world after all.

“Oh god,” Jisung groans. “I have five missed calls from Jinyoung’s parents. I forgot to tell them what happened.”

“Do it now,” Sungwoon says. “What are you gonna tell them?”

“I’ll think of something,” Jisung says, just as the phone begins to ring again. “What if they never trust me with him again?”

“They will,” Sungwoon reassures. “There’s no way they can think this is your fault, because it isn’t.”

Jisung nods, though Sungwoon isn’t sure if it’s because he agrees or just because he wants to answer the phone and get the conversation over with. “Call an uber. I’ll be done before it gets here.” He walks away to take the call in private.

Sungwoon can hear Minhyun calling the car for them, so he has nothing to do but wait. He sits down on the short wall blocking the entrance off from the parking lot. Guanlin sits next to him, shivering— Sungwoon doesn’t know if it’s because of the cold or everything that’s happened.

“He’s going to be okay,” Guanlin says, and once again Sungwoon doesn’t know— doesn’t know if Guanlin is talking to him or himself.

“He is,” Sungwoon agrees anyway. Guanlin needs to hear it, he needs to hear it, they all need to hear it.

“I wanna go home. I’m tired.” Guanlin sighs, dropping his head on Sungwoon’s shoulder. “But I don’t wanna leave him either.”

“Me neither. But we have to. We need to sleep. So does he.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Guanlin looks up to the hospital. “Sleep well, Jinyoung.”

Jisung ends his call just as their cars pull in. They split up randomly, but Sungwoon ends up in the same one as him so once they’ve confirmed for the driver where they’re going he asks him how it went.

“His parents are...panicked, understandably. When we get home I’m going to walk down there and talk to them in person. It was...hard, doing it over the phone. Not that it will be easier to do it in person, probably. I hope I have a good poker-face.” He huffs at the end, more self-deprecating and disbelieving than amused.

“If you aren’t back by midnight I’ll call the police. ‘Hello, police, one of your officers got murdered by a passably nice heterosexual couple because he’s too good to know how to fucking lie.’”

Jisung laughs, and Sungwoon smiles because that’s all he can really hope for.

Jisung explains where he’s going once they’re all stood outside the house and leaves them to let themselves in without him. The house seems to be too big when they go in— Sungwoon’s not used to coming home and seeing it empty.

They end up hovering in the hallway. None of them are sure how to go about their normal lives. Minhyun is the first to move, heading into the living room. They all follow without saying a word.

“Is there anything anyone wants to talk about before we go to bed?”

There’s a lot of things they should probably talk about. Sungwoon isn’t sure what, exactly, but he knows that they all must be thinking about a lot right now. Still, he can’t think of anything to say. Is there a right thing to say? Even if he knows they should talk, does he _want_ to?

“When will you tell us who Jonghyun is?” Jihoon asks.

Minhyun runs a hand over his face. “Soon, I promise. I’d do it now but it’s a long story and I don’t even have all the facts. It’s...not a nice story either, and I think today’s been rough enough.”

Jihoon nods, and no one else pushes it.

“Woojin, what were you doing with that machine in the hospital room?” Daehwi pipes up out of nowhere.

Woojin blinks. “Nothing. I was just looking at it. I had nothing to do waiting for you guys and I was curious.”

No one else says anything to that. Woojin’s explanation makes more than enough sense, but-

“I think that’s enough for today,” Minhyun says. “It’s late. We should get some sleep.”

“Can we all sleep down here?” Daehwi asks quietly.

There’s a beat before Seongwoo says “Do you mind if me and Daniel don’t? I just…” He trails off.

Minhyun nods. “Yeah, I think a lot of us just need some time alone right now. To think things through and all. I’m sorry, Daehwi.”

Daehwi seems upset, but he nods and starts heading up to his room before the rest of them have even stood up again.

“Goodnight, I guess,” Sungwoon tells them before he starts making his way up to his own room. It’s been one of the longest days of his life, and he just wants to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Jisung has been debating if it’s time to finally use his long-saved-up vacation days since he got home from Mr and Mrs. Bae’s last night. Going to work right now— continuing to act like everything is normal right now— doesn’t feel right. But then he thought about how it would feel to sit around the house all day with nothing to do but wait until the hospital’s visiting hours and realised going about his day as normal was the lesser of two unsatisfactory options.

He walks into the precinct and heads to his desk only to be immediately pulled aside by the captain and summoned into her office with little more than a jerk of her head.

“Captain, what’s going on?” He asks once the door closes behind them.

“You handed me a warrant for Ahn Hyungseob’s arrest the day before yesterday, is that correct?” She asks.

Jisung can barely remember, if he’s honest. The only memory with any significance in his mind starts with a phone call and ends when he walks outside the hospital. Kahi’s words are what brings the situation rushing back to him.

Ahn Hyungseob. He hurt ~~Bae Jin~~ \- Lee Euiwoong. He hurt Lee Euiwoong. And Jisung made the decision to use the arrest warrant he found on his desk to take Hyungseob down for that.

“Yes,” Jisung answers.

“I’m sending you and your partner to arrest him. I’ll also be sending backup, in case he decides it’s time to drop his innocent act and get violent.”

“Now?” Jisung asks.

“Yes. Give me a few moments to prepare a squad and then be prepared to leave immediately.”

He tells her he understands and leaves the office.

The walk back to his desk is done on muscle-memory— his brain is preoccupied with thought. They’re finally arresting Ahn Hyungseob. After weeks of obsession over this case, it’s finally going somewhere. After what happened last night this feels like some kind of silver-lining in what’s shaping up to be a myriad of awful news, and he latches onto it with fervour that would scare him if it wasn’t exactly what he needed.

“I take it the captain told you the news?” his partner asks when Jisung sits down.

Officer Jeong’s expression is bordering on disinterested— but that’s how he usually looks. Between them they haven’t mentioned much of this case to each other since the day Hyungseob was first brought in for questioning. Jisung doesn’t know if his partner thinks or feels any differently about it than any other case. He certainly doesn’t seem obsessed with it like Jisung himself, but now Jisung can just make out a small glint in his eye that says perhaps there’s something different about this for him too.

“Yes. Are you ready to go?”

“Just say the word.”

Kahi’s efficiency can’t be questioned. She has a team of officers ready and waiting within minutes. Before the fact that they’re doing this has even truly sunk in Jisung is in the car driving towards Hyungseob’s address.

They pull up at a modest house that looks the definition of middle class— cream painted exterior, two stories, a small but well-tended front garden with a nice but comfortably affordable (from Jisung’s point of view) car in the driveway.

A middle-aged woman in loose-fitting clothes answers the door with a polite but curious smile and this is when it hits Jisung that Hyungseob has only just entered adulthood. He is a very, very young man and this must be his mother, who he still lives with. If this case had happened just a few months earlier, he would have been tried as a child.

Jisung wonders if that ought to make a difference in the dislike— now bordering on hatred—  that he feels for Hyungseob. He thinks it should. It doesn’t.

“Hello, Southway City police,” Jisung shows his badge and officer Jeong does the same next to him.

“Oh, what can I help you with, officer?” There’s a twinkle of nerves in her eyes but not much— Jisung wonders if she even knows what‘s been happening.

“Is this the residence of Ahn Hyungseob?” Officer Jeong asks. Jisung knows from experience that his calm voice makes people more at ease.

“Well, yes, but why are you asking? Is something wrong?”

“If it’s okay with you we’d be more comfortable explaining this in Hyungseob’s presence. Is he home?”

“Hyungseob!” The woman Jisung presumes is his mother shouts up the stairs. “Some police officers are here asking for you?” The last part like a question. She’s clearly still confused.

Jisung hears pounding footsteps before he sees Hyungseob round the top of the stairs. The heavy and quick footsteps continue until Hyungseob is in front of them, standing next to his mother, short of breath.

“What’s going on? This is about 'Woong, right? Is he okay? Did you find who did it?” This all comes out in one breath.

Jisung takes a deep breath. This is it. “Ahn Hyungseob, you are under arrest for the aggravated assault of Lee Euiwoong.”

Hyungseob’s eyes widen. He takes a step back. “But- but I didn’t do it!

Officer Jeong reads Hyungseob his rights while handcuffing his hands behind his back. Contrary to the captain’s warning, Hyungseob doesn’t turn to violence— the only way he fights against them is the tears streaming down his cheeks and the constant repetitions of “I didn’t do it.” “He’s my best friend, how could I?” “Please, let me go.”

As they begin to lead him down his drive and towards the police car, he suddenly turns—  Jisung doesn’t lose his grip on Hyungseob’s arm but he’s caught by surprise and doesn’t stop him.

“Mom. Mom, please. You have to believe me. I didn’t do this. I would never- you know that I lo- you know that I wouldn’t.”

Jisung is once again reminded that Hyungseob is so, so young.

His mother had been watching the entire scene in shock, but her son talking directly to her seems to snap her out of it. She runs down the drive and towards Hyungseob. Before she can reach him one of the backup officers steps in and blocks her path.

“Let me see my son,” she wails.

“Ma’am, what’s your name?” The officer asks.

She tells him, then she starts talking about how this isn’t right and her family’s lawyer will be sure to prove Hyungseob did nothing.

“You have to let us take him to the station. After that we’ll call you.”

Jisung expects her to keep arguing but she just says “Well, I suppose I have no choice. I don’t want to get in the way of an investigation.”

“Mom?” Hyungseob whimpers.

“I’ll see you soon, son.” She says, and then she moves back and let’s them guide Hyungseob into the back seat.

Hyungseob doesn’t talk at all during the car ride. It surprises Jisung— he’s only really met Hyungseob twice before now but he never came off as the quiet type, not even in stressful situations. But, he supposes, you never know what to expect in a situation like this.

All eyes are on them when they enter the the precinct. Every officer is stretching over their desks for a discreet— or not so discreet— look. News of this case had spread around the office like wildfire and everyone was interested in it. For a moment, Jisung wonders why— there’s been crazier and bloodier crimes in the history of their city, even in recent enough years for a good portion of his coworkers to remember them. Normally the only thing that gets them this frenzied is a straight-out, well-executed murder. That thought is quickly pushed away though. What Hyungseob did was awful, so awful, even if it didn’t end in death.

Jisung ignores the stares and leads Hyungseob to the interrogation room with officer Jeong’s help. The team that had accompanied them disbands to their desks and the three of them are left alone.

“Ahn Hyungseob.” Any warmth Jisung had in their previous interview is gone. “Lee Euiwoong, your supposed best friend, your neighbor, your potential crush. Beaten to unconsciousness. Fractured bones. Bruises all over. A head injury that may have lead to amnesia. What do you have to say to that?”

“I say it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” Hyungseob’s voice wavers, but there’s an edge of fierceness to it.

“Then why did you do it?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then tell us what really happened, Hyungseob. If you really didn’t do this then we’ll let you go, but you need to work with us. For yourself and for Euiwoong.” Officer Jeong placates.

Good cop Bad cop is the most classic interrogation technique in the books, but Jisung’s not used to being the bad cop He’s even less used to meaning it.

“I have told you everything I know.”

“Well, everything you know seems to point right back to you. All the evidence points to you. We need something else, anything, please, Hyungseob,” Sewoon’s voice doesn’t falter into anger. He’s just the right mix of caring and accusing that makes it seem both like he’s on Hyungseob’s side and Hyungseob’s in trouble.

Even though Jisung knows that his partner believes Hyungseob did it, he still doubts for a moment. He’s always thought that for a man who doesn’t like talking to suspects, officer Jeong is very good at it.

“What evidence?!” Hyungseob demands. “What do you actually have that proves I did it?”

Something happens in Jisung’s mind. It’s like a dam crashing open as thoughts slam into it. What evidence _do_ they have? There was no evidence at the scene with Hyungseob’s DNA. They hadn’t found any useful DNA at all. Their only witness is the victim, who’s suffering from _amnesia_ . Euiwoong said he thought it could be Hyungseob, but he was going off nothing but a feeling. Jisung had had that feeling too, but why? Yeah, he trust his instincts, but they’re not _always_ right and god knows someone can’t be convicted on just that. Why is he so convinced that-

Just as quickly as the thoughts came they’re gone again. While he felt the dam break he doesn't even notice it being rebuilt. He forgets everything he just realised.

“Lee Euiwoong thinks you did it,” Jisung says coldly.

Hyungseob pales. “No- no. You’re lying!”

“He’s not,” Sewoon sighs, shaking his head. “Euiwoong said himself that he thinks you did this— that he doesn't trust you.”

“But...he would _know_. He would have seen who did this.” Hyungseob argues. The frustration and desperation in his tone are palpable.

“What? He’s your best friend and you haven’t even checked up on him lately?” Jisung shakes his head. “He doesn’t even remember anything about who attacked him. Either you beat him so severely it damaged his brain or traumatised him enough that his subconscious had to sweep in and protect him.”

Hyungseob falls silent. His eyes are distant gleaming and gleaming with unshed tears. His body flops in the chair like all fight has been drained out of him.

“This is your last chance, Hyungseob. Do you have anything final to say, anything to offer us, that will convince us it wasn’t you who did this?”

The silence stretches. It almost seems like Hyungseob hasn’t even heard. The lively boy arguing over his fate just a moment ago seems to have retreated into his mind, leaving behind an empty shell.

“No,” Hyungseob says finally. It’s so quiet Jisung thinks he may have imagined it.

“What was that?” Jisung asks.

“I said No,” Hyungseob is louder now, even if his voice is little more that a hiss. He leans forward and makes each word clear. “I have nothing.” He falls back in his chair then, waiting for whatever is to come.

“Ahn Hyungseob. We are charging you with the aggravated assault of Lee Euiwoong.” Officer Jeong goes through all the technicalities. They hand Hyungseob over to another officer to be processed. It’s a strange, somehow unsatisfactory end to the case that’s been plaguing Jisung’s mind. Maybe that’s just because it’s not really over yet. Hyungseob still needs to go to trial.

“So,” his partner says. It startles Jisung, he was so so busy in his own head. “We arrested him- are you happy?”

Jisung thinks— is he?

“I’m glad that we’re getting somewhere in this case,” he says, carefully neutral.

Officer Jeong smiles— it’s a strange smile, amused but far-off. “You can be honest. It’s okay. I know we haven’t gotten close as partners over the years, but I know you need someone to talk to in this job. Do you have someone to talk to?”

“I have my family,” Jisung answers immediately. “I don’t always like talking to them about the job though. It’s not always a positive job.” He leaves the  “-and they’ve been through more than enough.” unspoken.

“Oh, you have a family? Like a wife and kids? I didn’t know,” officer Jeong says, seeming genuinely interested.

Jisung laughs. “I definitely don’t have a wife. The kids part is open to interpretation. What about you, Officer? Ever marry?”

“You can call me Sewoon. No, barely even dated to be honest,” Sewoon laughs. “It’s just me and the job most of the time. But I’m used to that.”

“Well, if _you_ ever need someone to talk to, I’m here,” Jisung offers.

Before Sewoon can reply, Jisung catches the time on his watch.

“Oh, I have to go,” he winces. “It’s visiting hours at the hospital. My friend is there.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll go check on the processing. I hope your friend is okay.” Sewoon leaves the room before Jisung does.

Jisung changes into his civilian clothes before finding Minhyun’s number in his contacts and calling to say he’s heading to the hospital straight from work and he’ll meet them there. It’s been a long day, and he kind of wants to clear his head and rest, but he wants to see Jinyoung more, especially with this case fresh on his mind again.

 

* * *

 

 Guanlin’s hands are calloused at this point. The night they came back from the hospital he’d acted like he was going to sleep, but he hadn’t— _still_ hadn’t. He instead spent god knows how many hours going through every piece of scrap metal and random electrical component he had lying around. He’d create something, only to dismantle it and turn it into something new, over and over again even as the constant use of his powers drained his energy and sent aches spreading through his body. He wasn’t trying to build anything particular. He had no grand ideas that would somehow be able to help. He just...needed _something_ to do, something to keep him occupied until they could head back to the hospital.

Hours spent awake with nothing to show for it but his calluses and the thoughts he melted into, but at least they’re finally heading back to the hospital.

When the car pulls up he’s one of the first people to jump out, but still waits for everyone else before heading towards the building. He doesn’t have a lot of experience with hospitals— could probably count the times he’s been inside one on one hand with fingers to spare. It’s kind of interesting— a new experience, watching how this unfamiliar place breathes and functions and works. He just wishes he could be here under better circumstance.

The walk up to Jinyoung’s room is easier this time. He’s still anxious, but he’s not _scared_ like before. The first time they came up here, Guanlin didn’t know what to expect. Part of him wasn’t even expecting to find Jinyoung, as if what happened would have hurt him so bad it would make him unrecognisable. Now, he knows that it’s his friend up here- a little worse for wear but still _him._

Jinyoung smiles when they walk into the room. It’s a bright smile— much brighter than the small, exhausted thing that was all  he could manage yesterday. In fact, Guanlin isn’t sure he’s _ever_ seen Jinyoung smile like this. He wants to see it more often.

“How are you feeling today?” Jisung asks. Someone has put more chairs in the room. There’s still not enough for all of them— that may probably wouldn’t even fit. But if some of them perch on the arm-rests or don’t mind standing then they’re fine. Guanlin manages to get a real seat on one of the chairs, in the corner by the window.

“A bit better, I think.” Jinyoung furrows his brow thoughtfully. “It’s easier to sit up on my own. They finally took that oxygen mask off too!” It’s only then that Guanlin realises the mask is gone, though he should have earlier since he could see Jinyoung’s smile perfectly. It’s been replaced with two thin tubes, one in each nostril. Jinyoung explains they serve the same purpose but aren’t as intense as a mask.

“Did the doctor come to see you today? Did you have any more tests?” Jisung’s questions don’t let up.

Jinyoung nods. “Mostly they just checked a bunch of stuff like my reactions to kinds of stimuli, or whatever. They didn’t tell me exactly what the tests said yet but I think I did okay.”

Jisung smiles, satisfied. He asks a few more questions about the staff (nice and helpful, especially when Dongmyeong is on shift— he’s taken to giving Jinyoung cute but embarrassing nicknames like some kind of mother-hen) and the food (certainly not good, but edible for the most part— Jinyoung wouldn’t complain if they wanted to sneak him in a McDonald’s though.) and then they finally get on to subjects that don’t have to do with the hospital or Jinyoung’s condition. Guanlin makes occasional comments but mostly he just listens. It’s comforting that they’re acting normal (well, as close to it as possible) again. When they’re like this, he almost forgets how scared he was to lose another friend.

 

_Guanlin took the £50 the machine spit out and marvelled at it for a moment before shoving it in his hoodie pocket. This was the first time he’d tried taking more than a $20 out. He was almost surprised it had worked. He’d never imagined having this much money to himself. If he could take this...how much more could he-._

_He shook that train of thought off quickly. He wouldn’t take more than he needed. Besides, this $50 wasn’t really his. It was for Seonho._

_They’d made it through the school year with no failed grades at the end of year exams, though in some subjects they’d only just scraped-through. Guanlin thought that was cause to celebrate. Seonho had been working extra hard at studying this semester— not difficult since he’d barely picked up his books before, but he’d really buckled down this time. When Guanlin asked him why, he said he’d need to get into a good university if he wanted a good enough job to pay for  his half of that house they talked about— the place they were going to share, away from Guanlin’s screaming parents._

_Guanlin wanted to treat him. Tonight they were going to do everything they wouldn’t normally get to do. Guanlin had it all planned out. First they were going to the movies— they were showing a movie that Seonho had been talking about all week but hadn’t been able to go see yet— they were gonna buy popcorn and everything! Then they were going to go bowling. They’d had a lot of fun doing it at a friend’s birthday a few years ago but never had the excuse (and when you have no money, you need an excuse for everything that involves money and isn’t a necessity). After that it would probably be approaching the time Seonho’s mom would want him home, but they’d hopefully have just enough time to get dinner in one of the cities nicer restaurants. Guanlin had never been overly-fussed about food— he couldn’t be. As long as it was edible it was good enough for him. But Seonho had a passion for it (a foodie, his mother affectionately called him) and wanted to try whatever they offer at those upscale places he couldn’t normally afford._

_He reached Seonho’s door and tapped a loud, off-beat rhythm on it— he was too excited to knock politely. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet waiting for it to open, and when Seonho opens the door Guanlin has to physically restrain himself from yelling about all he’d planned._

_“Guanlin, what are you doing here?” Somewhere in the back of his mind, Guanlin noticed the unusual, nervous chuckle that Seonho said those words with, but he was too excited to really register it._

_“I’m here to take you out! I have so much planned-” Guanlin got cut off by Seonho shushing him. He shut his mouth immediately. Seonho had told him to shut up as a joke before, but judging by Seonho’s face and the way his eyes flutter back to his house before walking out and quietly shutting the door, this clearly wasn’t a joke._

_“Seonho? What’s wrong?”_

_Seonho’s gaze didn’t leave the ground where his foot was tracing a thoughtful pattern. Finally, after leaving Guanlin feeling like he’s on the edge of a precipice, he said “My mom banned me from hanging out with you anymore.”_

_Guanlin teetered dangerously on the precipice. His heart fell straight off and into his stomach. “What...but...why?”_

_"I messed up. We were talking, like we always do, and I accidentally told her about the necklace you bought me.”_

_Guanlin instantly knew what necklace he was talking about. They had been walking around the mall, window shopping. He’d noticed something in the window— a pair of matching necklaces, meant to be split between two best friends. Each had a star pendant, one a silhouette and one full star that would fit inside the silhouette— they reminded Guanlin of that night, where they’d laid under the stars and planned their futures and the home they’d share one day. Guanlin knew that he and Seonho had to have them. He had pulled his best friend inside the store and took the necklaces up to the cash register. He’d been so fixated on the necklaces he’d failed to realise this was a high-end jewellery store and not a cheap accessories place. The price of the necklaces was on the lower division of $100, but a lot closer than Guanlin was comfortable with._

_He looked at the necklaces. He looked at the impatient cashier tapping her foot. He looked at his best friend._

_He needed to have those necklaces._

_Guanlin dragged all the money out of his pockets- today’s haul plus the leftovers he’d been saving up bit by bit for months now. He counted all the pennies and just managed to walk away with the necklaces. It was expensive, but the smile on Seonho’s face as he put the physical symbol of their friendship around his neck was worth it._

_“I backtracked and tried to say they weren’t expensive, but my mom’s been looking at fake-white-gold her whole life and she could tell this wasn’t it. Then I tried saying you’d got a job I’d forgot to mention, but she knew I wouldn’t forget to mention something like that.She...she thinks you’re stealing.”_

_Guanlin would point out that technically that was what he was doing— that every time he draws money he doesn’t have out of the ATM he is stealing— and Seonho was watching and encouraging him to do it. He didn’t say anything though. His throat was choked up and he had forgotten how to form words._

_When he remembered he said: “Well, we’ll just have to hang out behind her back. It won’t be easy but we can do it! You can..you can say you joined a new club at school! And you have to go to the meetings but really you’ll be meeting me! We can’t let this just happen, Seonho!”_

_Seonho shook his head sadly. “It’s...it’s more than that. I have this aunt, over in Axon. She wants nothing to do with my mom— she hates her, to the point that she keeps telling my mom that I should go to live with her instead. She’s...she’s really well off, a CEO or something. My mom always said no, of course. But now she thinks this city is a bad influence on me, that you’re a bad influence on me. She said she wants me to have a better life than the one she can give me down here.”_

_“What are you saying?” Guanlin rasps. His heart was in his stomach and his head was full of the fear of falling and he didn’t understand any of the words strung together in the order Seonho was saying them._

_Seonho looked up then. Guanlin hadn’t been apologized to often, but he could see the one in Seonho’s eyes. “I move next week. I’m moving to the other side of the country. I don’t have a choice, and I don’t know when, or if, I’ll be able to come back.”_

_Guanlin sank to the ground, weighed down by his dropping heart and the suddenly heaviness of the $50 in his pocket. Seonho sat down too, though he probably felt he shouldn’t by the way his eyes kept flicking back to the door— probably just waiting for his mom to realise he’s outside and has been for a bit too long._

_Guanlin didn’t know how long he’d been sat there when the idea hit him, and he didn’t know why it took so long for it to._

_“We move in together,” he said._

_“...What?” Seonho asked._

_“The plan, Seonho! The promise!” He said, more energy in his voice than he would have imagined was possible moments before. “We can’t break a pinky-promise, right? So we do it, we move in together, and we do it now.”_

_“But...how, Guanlin?” Seonho didn’t sound reluctant. He sounded like he wanted Guanlin to tell him exactly how so they could do it._

_“I’ll get the money.” Guanlin doesn’t know how much a house or even a little apartment costs, but surely there’s enough in all the ATM’s in a city this size, right? “I’ll get it by tonight. Pack your stuff, just whatever you can easily carry because we can always buy more. We’ll run away, you and me against the world.”_

_Seonho’s eyes were wide. When Guanlin looks back on this, he’ll know that what they were wild with was the glee and naivety of childhood. “Do you really mean it?” He asked._

_“Of course I do. We pinky-promised.” Guanlin nodded._

_Seonho grinned at him. “Okay. We’ll run away.”_

_That’s when a shout came from inside the house “Seonho! Sweetie! Where are you?”_

_Both Seonho and Guanlin froze. Guanlin drops his voice to the lightest whisper,_

_“Pack your stuff, like I said. Meet me back here, on the doorstep, once you know your mom is asleep. Then, we run. We run away from all of this.”_

_“I’ll be here,” Seonho said. “I have to go now.”_

_“See you later.”_

_Seonho slipped back into his house and Guanlin began his mission._

 

_His legs ached. He’d walked all over town, draining every ATM he found. He’d gotten turned around somewhere and found himself in unfamiliar suburbs with houses as big as the ones he and Seonho dreamed of— the rich part of town._

_He thought he had enough money now. The duffle-bag he was carrying was full of it, laying on a thin pile of clothes. He was trying to find his way back to an area he recognised, but as he walked past the streets showing him how the other side lived he realised something. He saw a car in a driveway, the only one he’d passed that was out in the open instead of hidden away in a garage._

_Sooner or later, Seonho’s mom would probably report him missing. (He had the fleeting thought that maybe his parents would too, but he doubted they’d even notice.) He had been intending on them taking the first train out of town and riding it until the very last stop— they’d settle down there if it was far enough and get on another one if it wasn’t. But if Seonho was a reported missing person public transport would be risky. If someone recognised him and decided to get involved it would be over for them._

_A car would be the better, safer option._

_Guanlin briefly thought about buying one, but quickly realised that no one would sell someone their age with no licenses a car (he had not thought about how no one would sell people their age a house either until then, but he refused to panic about that, he’d figure it out later)._

_But there was one way he could get a car. There was one lying right there, out in the open. He could just take it— it felt wrong, like the piles of money in his bag, but this was for Seonho._

_That’s what he kept repeating to himself in his mind as he climbed the gate and began to approach the car._

_He reached out for the car door, hoping there was no alarm. Thankfully, when his hand met the cool metal, the night stayed silent. He closed his eyes, focused on the car and thought ‘open.’_

_He pulled the handle but nothing happened. The door didn’t budge._

_He tried again._

_Nothing._

_And again-_

_Nothing._

_He kept trying until the frustration almost made him crazy and his thoughts were a tirade. That’s when the thought reached him. It sounded like his own but he could feel that it came from somewhere else._

_‘Manual locks.’_

_The car, that, if he had to guess, though he knows nothing about cars, is a classic model, has manual locks instead of electric._

_Since they weren’t electric, his powers can’t sway or even force them open._

_He’d need a key._

_He let out a groan. Why did the only car he had come across have to belong to some spoiled rich person who valued the price of their car over its actual usefulness._

_He thought of just walking away. Once he got out of this neighbourhood there would be cars lining the streets, belonging to people whose homes don’t boast personal garages. He could just find another._

_But he was already running too short on time— and the idea of stealing from people who would actually miss what he took, people like him, made him sick to his stomach._

_He looked at the house behind him. Huge and beautiful. The keys would be in that house somewhere, and maybe, hopefully, he could find them._

_For people (or a person) with so much money, they seemed to have invested almost nothing in their security system. Guanlin didn’t doubt that, given a few moments, he could probably have disabled it without his powers. Once it was done, he opened the huge window and climbed inside._

_He landed on his feet and took a look around. Even just this room was more illustrious than anything he could of imagined. The window he climbed through had lead to the kitchen. It was a wide, open place, so much bigger than the narrow strip of a thing Guanlin was used to. The counters were sleek and smooth...and there was a man staring at him unblinkingly from the breakfast bar, spoon full of cereal halfway to his mouth._

_Guanlin froze and stared back._

_The world's longest beat passed like that, and then the man started to scream._

_“What the fuck? Are you trying to rob us?”_

_“No!” Guanlin spluttered._

_The man gave him an incredulous glare. “You snuck in through the window. In all black. With a huge duffle bag. You’re totally trying to rob us.”_

_“I am not!” Guanlin argued_

_“You are!”_

_“I am not!”_

_“Oh my god.” The man shook his head, then turned and shouted out into the house. “Jisung!”_

_“What, Sungwoon? Why are you yelling so-” another man, presumably Jisung, entered the kitchen and froze in the doorway. “What’s going on?” He asked hesitantly._

_“This kid is trying to rob us,” Sungwoon said, matter-of-fact._

_“I was not trying to rob you!” Guanlin argued again, but then realised it was futile. “....much.”_

_"Much? So...you were only gonna rob us a little,” Sungwoon snorted._

_“...Just your car,” Guanlin mumbled. “Look, this was a mistake. Just— let me go, please. I can’t go to jail. I have somewhere I need to be tonight.” He knew that begging was a long-shot, that these rich people would probably go screaming to the police any minute about how some broke kid from the bad side of town had tried to take their belongings like the easily replaceable things they were, but it was his only hope._

_To his surprise, all Jisung said was “Sit down.” and pulled out a bar stool._

_Guanlin did as he was told, and Jisung said, without a hint of anger “Tell me everything.”_

_Maybe it was because he knew he had no other choice, maybe it was because he’d barely had time to even think about what was going on between it happening and making his plans to stop it. Maybe it was because an adult was finally looking at him like he was a person instead of a product of an unhappy marriage or a bad influence or a waste of space. Maybe it was all of them. Whatever it was, he told Jisung everything. Every part of the long, painful story that was currently his life._

_At the end, Jisung asked “So Seonho is your best friend?”_

_Guanlin nodded. Surely that part of the story was obvious._

_“Have you considered that...maybe this chance at a better life would be a good thing for him?”_

_“Huh?” Guanlin blinks._

_“Just think about it, Guanlin. It’s giving him a better life. Isn’t that you wanted for him? Isn’t that at least part of the reason you stole all that money?”_

_“Well, yeah but-” Guanlin breathes in. “-oh.”_

_“What’s a better life for him? On the run with another kid who knows no better how to navigate this world than he does? Always worrying about when he’ll get found and taken home? No school because there’s no adult to enroll him in one? Maybe no home at all if you can’t find a way around trying to buy one at your age?” Jisung didn’t say any of this cruelly. He wasn’t angry. He didn’t talk in that tone of voice that said ‘I’m an adult and I know better than you, dumb kid.’ He was gentle and patient. In fact, he seemed upset that he had to open Guanlin’s eyes and crush his plans._

_“But-” Guanlin’s voice was weak— he knew he was fighting a losing battle at this point. “He wants to stay with me.”_

_“I know. I know that’s what you both want. But maybe...for now...it’s not for the best,” Jisung sighed._

_Guanlin sniveled. He wondered if he was about to cry. He couldn’t remember the last time he did that—  probably some time before he got used to his parents fighting. “I don’t know what to do,” Guanlin admitted. “I’m...I’m gonna call Seonho.”_

_Jisung and Sungwoon just nodded._

_Guanlin walked out to the hallway for some illusion of privacy— he didn’t know if it was for his sake or for the benefit of the men whose house he’d invaded— and pulled out his phone, dialling Seonho._

_“Guanlin? What’s up? Are you here already? Is something wrong?”_

_Guanlin took a deep, rattling breath. “Seonho...with your aunt, what’s it gonna be like?”_

_“Oh, I don’t know? Like I said, I’ve never actually met her.”_

_“Yeah but...you said it was gonna be a “better life” right? How?”_

_“Well, apparently my aunt lives in like...a really good neighbourhood. She’s not rich, exactly, but she definitely has more money than us— has a four bedroom house even though it’s just her, her husband, and their dog. Apparently the school I’d be going to is really good too, I don’t know, I stopped listening when she said I wouldn’t be able to see you again.”_

_Guanlin breathed out. That did sound so much better than anything he could offer Seonho. Guanlin was doing nothing by taking him away. He was...being selfish. Maybe he was a bad influence, maybe he was a bad person. He was thinking more about himself than he was anyone else, just like his parents were everytime they fought._

_Guanlin didn’t want to be like them._

_“That sounds amazing, Seonho. You-“ Even though he knows it’s the right thing to do it feels wrong to say. “You should go.”_

_There’s a moment of silence on the other end, then a quiet “What are you saying?”_

_“I’m saying this is an amazing opportunity. One you shouldn’t give up for me.”_

_“But I want to stay with you.” Seonho sounded like a child. Guanlin realised for the first time how young Seonho was, how young they both were._

_“I know. I want to stay with you too. But...for now, we just can’t. Just for now. It’s not forever.”_

_“How do you know that?” Seonho sniffled on the other end._

_“I just do. Trust me, okay? I pinky-promise.”_

_“O- okay.”_

_“Goodbye, Seonho.” Guanlin breathed._

_“Goodbye, Guanlin.”_

_Guanlin hung up and walked back to the kitchen, dropping his phone on the counter. Then, he sat down, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he started to cry._

_Jisung knelt in front of him. “Hey, It’s gonna be okay.”_

_Guanlin didn’t know whether to believe him— still, he fell into Jisung’s chest. His parents hadn’t hugged him since he was small enough for them to pick him up as they did. The only person he’d hugged in years was Seonho, and that didn’t happen too often. Right now though, he needed this. He needed someone to look after him. He’s tall enough for his forehead to be in Jisung’s neck, but Jisung doesn’t seem to mind as he wraps his arms around him._

_“It’s all gonna be okay, Guanlin. I promise.”_

 

 

That was the hardest time of Guanlin’s life. It hadn’t just been losing Seonho, but the fact that it was at least partially Guanlin’s fault. He’s learned from his mistakes though, and he won’t do that again.

He wonders if ‘losing’ Seonho is the right word. It’s not as if he’s dead. He’s alive, walking around somewhere out there. They haven’t spoken since that phone-call. Guanlin’s looked him up online, but he never contacted him. He didn’t want Seonho to get in trouble if his family found out, and he was scared he’d only make everything worse by getting back in touch again. He still wears his half of the star necklace tucked under his shirt though.

 

* * *

 

 Daehwi knows that maybe he sticks closer to Jinyoung’s bedside than is strictly necessary. He knows that he doesn’t need to watch so attentively as Jinyoung slowly spoons soup into his mouth, just waiting to jump in and help if it looks like he needs it. Jinyoung doesn’t seem to mind though, and Daehwi can’t really stop himself.

Jinyoung drops his spoon. Woojin immediately jumps up from where he was sat on the other side of the bed. “Woah, do you need any help?”

“I’ve got it,” Daehwi snaps. “Jinyoung, do you need any help?”

Daehwi pretends not to notice Woojin’s hurt look as he sits back down. He didn’t mean to snap—  or did he? Since last night he’s been thinking a lot about what Woojin could have been doing. His brain had come up with no good possibilities. He wishes it would. He hates feeling like this—  like he can’t really trust someone he loves so much, that maybe they’re a different person to the one he’d thought they were before.

Jinyoung shakes his head, a determined look on his face. “I’ve got it, both of you.”

Daehwi sits back in his chair but doesn’t take his eyes off Jinyoung. He’s scared that if he does something bad will happen.

It wouldn’t be the first time

 

 

_“Daehwi, sweetie, are you dressed?” His mom yelled up the stairs._

_“Yes.” Daehwi yelled back._

_“Okay! The bus will be here in five minutes. Don’t forget to brush your teeth!”_

_“I won’t!”_

_Daehwi went to the bathroom and picked up his toothbrush. He didn’t know why his mom insisted on reminding him all the time. He was eight, not five. He always remembered to brush his teeth, especially when his dad bought the bubblegum flavoured toothpaste._

_He brushed his teeth and ran downstairs, book bag swinging from his arms. “I’m ready!” He told his mom._

_She came out into the hallway, dressed in the blazer and knee-length-skirt she always wore to work. Daehwi always thought those clothes looked uncomfortable and scratchy. He was glad he didn’t have to wear things like that to school, and hoped they wouldn’t make him wear them as a grown-up either._

_"I’ll wait with you for the bus. I might be a little late home because I have to pick your father up from work too. He had to send his car to the mechanic. I’m going to give you the spare key, you know how to use it right?”_

_Daehwi nodded._

_“Okay. Unlock the door when you get home and make sure the bus driver waits with you until you do.”_

_“Okay,” Daehwi agreed._

_“Are you sure that you’ll be okay on your own?”_

_“Uh-huh! I can look after myself, you can be gone all day and I’ll be fine.”_

_His mother chuckles. “Okay, my big grown man. I won’t be gone all day though. I’ll see you soon.”_

_When he got on the bus his mom told the driver to wait for him later. She was clearly concerned, but Daehwi was gonna be fine! He was eight now, which meant he’d be ten soon, which meant he would practically be an adult!_

_Daehwi enjoyed school. His teacher was really nice, even if he’d thought she looked a little scary at first. The lessons were okay, though he didn’t think he’d ever get the hang of math. He liked the other kids too! They were nice and always invited him to their birthday parties!_

_His dad always said time flies when you’re having fun; Daehwi guessed he was right because school was over before he knew it. The bus ride back was significantly slower— Daehwi now realised he really has to unlock the door. He’d never done it by himself before. What if he couldn’t? Then he’d be stuck outside. He was hungry too. Would he have to cut the crusts off his own PB &J?! _

_He clambered off the bus, extra slow and careful compared to usual. He looked back at the bus a lot, wondering if it would drive off despite what his mom said. The bus stayed put and Daehwi pulled out his key. He had to wiggle the key a bit and almost panicked but eventually— it felt like an eventually, at least—  the door nudged open and Daehwi’s panic melted into nothingness._

_He waved goodbye to the bus driver and let himself in. It was unusually quiet without the sound of his mom watching her shows on the sofa or his dad already preparing dinner in the kitchen, thawing meat and chopping veggies. Daehwi rummaged in the kitchen until he found some animal crackers and went to put some cartoons on the TV._

_He didn’t realise how late it was getting until his stomach rumbled again halfway through an episode of the Powerpuff Girls. A glance at the clock told him it was past seven pm. Surely his parents should have been home by now? His mom was normally home before he got back from school and his dad always talked about working ‘nine ‘til five’ so Daehwi thought that he should be back too._

_Oh well, he was sure they’d be back soon._

_Another few episodes passed and the hunger became almost painful. He looked around, as if his parents could have somehow come home completely silently and blended in around him._

_There was no one there._

_Eventually he went to the kitchen and made himself a PB &J sandwich. He felt bad about it, as if it meant he was giving up on his dad coming back to make him dinner, but he was just so hungry. _

_His bedtime was nine p.m. His parents still weren’t back. He was getting scared now— even with the TV still on it was too quiet here, and even though he’d turned all the lights on the dark shadows seemed scary and threatening. He wanted his mommy._

_He was scared to move. If he moved the monsters in the shadows might get him. But his mommy would be mad when she came home and he wasn’t in bed. He slowly climbed up the stairs, jumping at every shadow. He somehow made it safely to his room and climbed into bed, noticing his dad had made it before he left._

_They’d be back tomorrow, he assured himself as he drifted off to sleep._

 

_Daehwi blinks awake, hazily lifting out of sleep. It was hard to stay awake, his bed was so comfortable, his pillow was so soft, the house was so quiet...that was strange...normally he woke up to his mom coming in to wake him and the smell of breakfast cooking downstairs._

_He shot up in his bed._

_His parents didn’t come home last night, he remembered now._

_But they had to be back now, right? It had been a whole night!!_

_He leapt out of bed and rushed downstairs. He tried to convince himself that his parents were just being quieter than usual for some reason. He ran to the living room first, then the kitchen, even the bathrooms, and his parents bedrooms before back to the living room. There he started looking behind the sofa and under the table. His parents were just playing hide and seek, that was it. A really long game of hide and seek they forgot to tell him about. Right?_

_He ended up lying on the floor after exhausting himself looking everywhere. That was when the doorbell went off._

_His parents were back!_

_He rushed to the door, immediately forgetting how exhausted he was. He got on his tiptoes to open the latch and swung the door open. He looked up expecting to see his parents smiling down at him. They’d hug him and tell him some fantastic story that explained where they’d been— like from one of those adventure books in the school library!_

_He found  two strangers standing there instead of his parents._

_“Hello?” He said warily._

_“Hello.” One of the people smiled down at him. “Are you Lee Daehwi?”_

_“My mommy says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” Daehwi replied_

_The two people on the doorstep shared a glance. “Well, what about the police? Did she say you could talk to them?”_

_Daehwi noticed their uniforms then. He recognised that they were police uniforms from one of the shows that his mom always watched. “My mom said I should talk to the police if I was ever in trouble.” Daehwi frowns. “Am I in trouble, Mr. Policeman?”_

_“Can we come in?” The policeman asked instead of answering him._

_Daehwi thought for a moment, then nodded._

_He lead them to the living room and let them sit down on the sofa. He stayed standing but one of the officers— not the one he’d spoke to before, but the policewoman—  told him to sit down so he went over to the chair. This was so strange. Why were these police people in his house? Had he done something wrong? Where were his parents?_

_“Daehwi,” the policeman took a deep breath. “Your parents were in a car accident yesterday. I’m afraid they passed away at the hospital during the night. Do you know what that means? That they passed away?”_

_Daehwi knew._

 

“Visiting hours are over soon,” Jisung reminds them unnecessarily.

“I wish they were longer,” Daehwi sighed.

“Me too, but it’s the rules.”

“Are you sure you’re okay here on your own?” Daehwi asks Jinyoung.

Jinyoung shrugs his shoulders. “I’m fine. It’s just boring here. The wifi is awful.”

“Why didn’t you tell me! I could have done something to fix that!” Guanlin says.

“...You can make wifi?” Jinyoung’s eyes widen.

“Yeah? It _is_ technology.”

“Yeah but it’s not like, electrical, or whatever?” Daehwi says. “... What _is_ it, actually?”

“I always thought it was like...waves or something.” Jinyoung offers.

“But what kind of waves?” The atmosphere changes as soon as Woojin speaks. The conversation falls silent for a heavy moment. The three of them share a fleeting glance that conveys how uncomfortable they suddenly feel.

Guanlin coughs. “Anyway, it’s radio waves. They transmit data across a network. The wireless adapter translates data and sends it out as a radio signal to the router where the data gets decoded.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Woojin nods. Daehwi can tell that he’s noticed the atmosphere too.

The conversation changes then, but Daehwi and Woojin both draw away from it.

Daehwi wishes it wasn’t like this. He and Woojin had gotten so close and he’d gotten used to talking to Woojin about anything and everything Jinyoung related. There’s so much he wishes he could talk to the other boy about now— how he thinks Jinyoung is handling it, if Jinyoung is going to be okay, Would this still have happened if Jinyoung hadn’t come back to make sure Daehwi was safe?

He has _a lot_ he wants to talk about.

But then he looks at Woojin, and that easy trust and camaraderie he once felt isn’t there anymore.

Jinyoung may be okay, but Daehwi still feels like he lost a friend.

 

* * *

 

Woojin doesn’t think he’s imagining that everyone has been weird around him lately. If he was imagining it, it would be subtle, right? But it isn’t. It seemed so, at first. He’d thought it was just the old insecurity creeping back in— the insecurity that he’s not really welcome; the feeling that he’s not really a part of this, not really a part of them. It doesn’t seem subtle anymore though. Rooms fall silent when he enters them. No one speaks to him unless he speaks first, and their replies are clipped and dismissive. They get away from him as soon as they can. It’s like he’s a ghost, silently haunting a house where no one wants him— it’s like being back at the boss’ mansion.

He didn’t know what to do. No one was giving him any idea how to act except to apparently stay away from them— so he does. He withdraws. He’s barely left his room in days. He goes to the bathroom when he has to. He gets food when he’s sure that nobody else will be in the kitchen. It’s not a nice way to live. He hates it. But he’s not sure what else to do. Nobody comments on his behaviour, no matter how much he’s hoping they will.

He hopes things will go back to how they used to be soon. If he knew what happened to make everyone start ignoring him then maybe he could do something about it, but he doesn’t, and it’s not as if anyone is itching to tell him. He really doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong. He’s racked his mind for anything he’s said or done, and he keeps coming up blank. Maybe it’s just all the stress of Jinyoung still being holed up in hospital ( _‘if that’s true, then why is it just you, why aren’t they ignoring each other like they’re ignoring you’_ his mind tells him. He tries to ignore it no matter how logical it is.)

They’re just stressed. Everything will go back to normal.

They’re just stressed. Everything will go back to normal.

They’re just stressed. Everything will go back to-

Woojin lets out a heavy breath and falls back onto the bed. His thoughts are driving him crazy. His stomach has been asking for food for hours now. He hasn’t eaten all day and the sun has already set. It’s dinnertime— the one he’d gotten used to here, anyway. His body is telling him it’s time to eat, but his mind doesn’t want to go downstairs. Everyone else will be in the dining room, eating together. They don’t want him there.

But he wants to be there.

He wars with himself for a while. Is he doing the right thing by avoiding them? Maybe if he goes down there, when they’re all together, they can fix this. That’s what he tells himself as he drags himself to his feet with a sudden bout of determination. Still, his steps are slow— not just slow for him, but truly slow. The closer he gets to the dining room the more nervous he gets but he forces himself to not let it stop him.

When he reaches the doorway they’re all sat around the table like he thought, and when they notice him they all fall silent— again, just like he thought. He feels kind of like running back to his room with the weight of their gazes on him, but he powers through.

“Is it okay if I join you? I’m hungry and…” he trails off.

The silence swells, as does Woojin’s anxiety. Finally Jisung coughs and says “Sure.” That one word holds absolutely no enthusiasm, but he’ll take it. He’ll take whatever he can get at this point.

He sits down on an empty chair and hopes he only imagines Jaehwan and Guanlin— the two people sat closest to him— shifting their chairs away a little. The pizza box is in the middle of the table and he feels awkward reaching over for it, but no one passes it to him so he has no choice but to reach over and grab a slice.

He demolishes the slice in seconds, his hunger taking over, but before he reaches for a second he remembers what he’s really here for. He’s not here to eat. He’s here to fix this.

“So,” he starts, so nervous his palms are sweating. “How was everyone's day?”

He doesn’t know what he expects, but it’s not Daehwi slamming his cutlery down and snapping “Why do you care, Woojin?”

Woojin feels like he’s been doused with ice-water. He’s shocked into silence, and when he does manage to respond he splutters. “What do you mean? I care because I...because I care about you!”

Daehwi stands up, narrowing his gaze at Woojin. Woojin has never had a reason to find Daehwi scary before, but he can’t help the chill runs through him right now.

“Do you care about Jinyoung?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then what were you doing, Woojin? What were you doing in his hospital room with that machine.”

“I was just looking at it!” He doesn’t know how many times he’s had to repeat this.

He can see in Daehwi’s face that he doesn’t believe him. Woojin’s stomach drops. He looks around, hoping for anyone to speak out and help him, but no one meets his eyes. He doesn’t know who to turn to— Daehwi is his best friend, or at least Woojin had thought so. Who else is he supposed to turn to?

His eyes land on Minhyun. Minhyun, who has always been there for him. Minhyun, who is endlessly supportive. Minhyun, who has always been reliable. Maybe Minhyun feels Woojin’s eyes on him because he looks up. Woojin doesn’t say anything, but he pleads _‘help me’_ with his eyes.

Minhyun’s tone is careful when he says “I don’t know, Woojin. It is...suspicious...especially with where you came from.”

Woojin swallows. He’d thought that the boss’s mansion and what happened there was something both he and Minhyun had put behind them— he’d thought that Minhyun knew by now that wasn’t who he was...

...He thought that it hadn’t even been a problem to anyone else, but there’s murmurs of agreement around the table. Guanlin says “You really expect us to believe you were there for months and never did anything wrong? What about what you said to me, back in my room. You admitted you’d done bad things, but ‘not with them!’ What does that mean?!”

It takes Woojin a second to realise what Guanlin is talking about, not because he doesn’t remember the conversation but because there’s so many thoughts in his head. He _does_ remember it though. He said he’d done bad things, and he has. He’d gone through a period of getting in pointless fights and acting out and being stupid. That was all. He’d never...He hadn’t done whatever it was he was being accused of!

“Jisung came back more injured than I’ve ever seen him. You were there that whole time and never got hurt? Not even getting out?” Daniel says. “You were already in bed by the time I saw Jisung, is it because you were scared you’d give something away if I asked you about his injuries?”

“I— what?”

Woojin wishes he could say something more intelligent, but he really has no idea what’s going on. He doesn’t know where any of this came from. Why would they think any of this? And why now? why not before?Had he not proven he had no intention to— not only had no intention to, but absolutely _couldn’t_ — hurt them by now?

“You know, I’ve told you everything about me, but I still feel like I know absolutely know nothing about you. You never talk about yourself, at first I thought you were just too shy, or maybe it hurt too much, but maybe it’s actually because there’s nothing to tell. Maybe there’s nothing to tell because the truth is that you’re just a bad person. You’re a bad person and you did what your boss told you to do and followed us and pretended to be someone else so you could try to hurt us.” Guanlin’s words come out fast, but Woojin hears every single one of them with piercing clearness.

He wants to say something, but even if he could think of something he doesn’t have a chance. Suddenly, everyone is talking— an avalanche of his worst nightmares falling on his ears.

“How could you do this to us? We let you into our home. We tried to be your friend, and this is how you treat us?”

“And to Jinyoung? Of all people? He’s a good kid Woojin! He had nothing to do with what happened at the bank or the mansion!”

“Why are you even still here? We know you never cared about us now! What more do you have to gain? Making us suffer by knowing you’re around somewhere but not even seeing you?!”

“It’s just...I really thought we were friends. I really thought that I meant something to you...but I guess it was all a lie. You don’t care about us? Fine, we don’t care about you either.”

Woojin can’t take it anymore.

He runs

He runs up the stairs and into his room faster than he thinks he ever has before. He feels like his mind is going just as fast— _they don’t want you, your family doesn’t want you, like your birth parents didn’t want you, like Donghyun didn’t want you_ — It makes him want to cover his ears and scream, a child-like instinct to block out the noise. He doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t want to think. He forces his mind to shut up and he’s left with one loud, overwhelming thought.

He has to get out of here.

He doesn’t slow down as he grabs a backpack and the clothes that are quickest to find and whatever else he thinks he might need.

He turns and sees a blur of bright colours. The wall. The wall that Daehwi and Jinyoung painted with beautiful, colourful flowers. Jinyoung— who is in the hospital. Daehwi— who hates him. Anger burns in him, sudden and fast. He picks up something and throws it at the wall. Whatever it is, it dents the plaster, leaving a crack right between the yellow, fuzzy looking flower and the rest. It isn’t satisfying. It _hurts_. He doesn’t want to look at it anymore.

He hikes his bag up his shoulder and he runs.

He runs downstairs and out the front door.

He’s blocks away by the time they probably even realise he left the house.

It’s not like they’d care anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhh i'm sorry and i promise this will all make sense soon if you haven't already kinda guessed what's going on


	10. Chapter 10

Jinyoung is getting scarily used to the hospital at this point. The bed is no longer strangely small and uncomfortable. The collective beeping from the machines has become a hum that lulls him to sleep instead of a cacophony that keeps him awake. At three a.m every morning a nurse wakes him up to take his observations and it’s still an annoyance, but it’s an irritatingly familiar one.

He still doesn’t know when he’ll be able to leave— it’s been an empty promise of ‘soon’ for days now. That’s the worst part. He wakes up every morning ready to go home only to be told ‘not today, but maybe tomorrow, Jinyoung.’

He’s trying not to let it get it to him. He still sees his friends everyday, and his parents come in whenever they’re not at work and call even more often. He likes the nurses and doctors as much as it’s possible to like people he only sees for a few minutes a day., but he still can’t wait to get out of here, or at least to know  _when_ he’s getting out.

A nurse has already been round that morning to do his normal observations, someone else came round to bring him the measly bowls of cereal the hospital provides for breakfast, but they didn’t bring any news on when he’d leave. He has to wait for the doctor for that, if she even has any news at all. At least visiting hours are soon, he tells himself. He doesn’t know how he’d survive if this had happened a few years ago and he didn’t have them, or anyone but his parents, to give him company.

 

 

_“I knew we never should have relied on your sister. She has always been flaky, that one.” Jinyoung heard his mother from where he was sat on the stairs._

_“I’m sure she has her reasons for not showing up,” his dad sighed, but there was no real defence in it._

_“Well, either way she’s not coming to watch Jinyoung. Who’s going to look after him now?”_

_Jinyoung didn’t bother to protest that he didn’t need someone to look after him. He’d tried to say it before. He’d sat at the dinner table and mentioned how the kids at school would be allowed to stay home alone for hours at a time. He’d brought up the fact that he was only a few years away from being allowed to legally live alone. He knew that it fell on deaf ears, and after a while he’d begrudgingly accepted that and the never-ending string of babysitters he had on weekends._

_“I don’t know, darling,” his father said, fussing with his blazer. Jinyoung knew that the man was running late for work, but he also knew he wouldn’t dream of leaving until this situation was sorted out._

_“Oh!” his mother said suddenly. “How about that nice man across the road?”_

_“Which one?”_

_“You know, the kind of young one. No wife but a lot of kids. They’re around Jinyoung’s age, too old to be his. He adopted them, or fostered, I’m not sure which.”_

_“Oh yes, him,” his father hums. “Well, we can ask, but I don’t want to impose…”_

_“Oh, nonsense! He already has so many teenagers. What's one more?”_

_Jinyoung wasn’t given the chance to voice his opinion of this plan. His parents dragged him up the road to this strangers house without even asking how he felt about it. He didn’t want to be bitter about that, but he couldn’t help but feel resentful, then feel guilty about the fact he felt resentful._

_His parents knocked on the door and Jinyoung felt anxiety bubble in his stomach. Did they really have to inconvenience a practical stranger like this for him? Jiyoung wouldn’t be surprised if his parents were laughed away on the spot for wanting someone to look after their teenage son for a few hours. He kind of hoped they would be. If he can’t make them see how ridiculous they’re being, maybe someone else could._

_A smiling man opened the door, looking a little confused but otherwise friendly. Jinyoung had seen him around, of course, since they lived on the same street. They’d never stopped to talk. Jinyoung wasn’t even sure he knew his name, or the names of a lot other people living here._

_“Hello,” his mom said. “We’re Mr and Mrs. Bae, and this is our son Jinyoung. We live just up the road.”_

_“Well, it’s nice to officially meet you after all this time. I’m Yoon Jisung.” the man introduced himself. “Can I help you with something?”_

_"Well, me and my wife both have to go to work. We can’t leave our son alone in the house and we have no one to watch him. We’d take the day off, to be honest with you, but we suddenly got called into an important meeting we just can’t miss. Would you by any chance be willing to take him in and keep an eye on him?”_

_Jinyoung looked up from underneath his bangs. He was looking for that confusion, that judgement. He wasn’t sure what it was he actually saw in the man’s eyes— it looked like a flash of panic._

_“I’m uh...not really sure. I mean, the kid barely knows me. Are you sure he wouldn’t be more comfortable somewhere else?”_

_“Oh, nonsense.” Jinyoung’s father shook his head. “We’ve seen you with your own kids, and you’re always so nice when we say hello in the mornings. There really is no better option for us or Jinyoung. Just...please.” He finished with a sigh._

_“Well, uh…” The man in the door shifted from one foot to the other and back again, then looked straight at Jinyoung. “Is that okay with you?”_

_Jinyoung just shrugged._

_The man turned back to Jinyoung’s parents. “Well...I suppose it can’t hurt.”_

_His parents gave the man a grateful smile and turned back to their son. “Wonderful! Go ahead inside, Jinyoung. You have our numbers if you need anything, and works number, and your grandmother’s number and well...you know. We’ll come back and get you at the usual time.”_

_Jinyoung tuned it all out and dragged his feet into  the house. The man in the doorway moved to follow, but his parents spoke again before he could. “Actually, sir, can we speak to you for a moment? You go on ahead. Jinyoung.”_

_Jinyoung walked just far enough to be out of his parents line of sight, but not out of earshot of their conversation. “Jinyoung has been...having some issues lately. Nothing dangerous, don’t worry. It’s just...he’s been running off a lot. He always comes back, though.”_

_Jinyoung winced. He hadn’t been ‘running off’, no matter what his parents believed. He didn’t know what had been happening, or where he went. Whenever he’d apparently ran off he’d been right there. They just couldn’t see him, even though he was standing right in front of them._

_It had been terrifying the first time it happened. The first time (or at least the first time he knew of) he’d been in his room— nothing had seemed out of the ordinary  until he’d been called down for dinner. His mother had shouted up the stairs and he’d wandered down and took a seat at the table. His mom has walked out of the kitchen but, to his confusion, she had walked right past him and to the bottom of the stairs._

_“Jinyoung? Dinner is ready!” She called again._

_Jinyoung frowned. “I’m right here?”_

_He had immediately froze when he’d realized he couldn’t hear his own voice._

_“Mom?” He had tried again._

_Nothing._

_It didn’t take long for his mother to give up shouting and walk up to his room instead. It also didn’t take long for her to flurry downstairs screeching to his dad that their son was gone and oh my god what’s happened and did you see him leave did someone take him we need to call the police…_

_It couldn’t have been longer than half an hour until whatever was happening stopped and his parents could see him again and he could hear himself but by then— with the scolding and the officers and not being able to explain himself— he wished he was invisible to everyone again._

_He went to bed that night trying to convince himself it was some strange fluke of his parents eyesight and his own hearing. It was a futile attempt from the start, but he let himself pretend he believed. Then it happened again, and again, and although he still didn’t know what it was he’d ended up accepting it as a part of his life._

_“I’ll be sure to keep an eye on him,” the man assured and closed the door._

_Jinyoung hovered awkwardly in the hallway, and the other man seemed just as uncomfortable as he approached him._

_“So, uh, I’m Jisung, if you didn’t know. You’re Jinyoung, right?”_

_Jinyoung didn’t respond._

_“Well,” Jisung claps his hands together. “You can sit in the living room? And watch TV? Or whatever?”_

_Jisung clearly didn’t know what he was doing. Jinyoung took pity on him and walked through to the living room. He sat on the sofa, stiff and unsure where to go from there, but it seemed to placate Jisung a little._

_“Okay, I’ll just be over here.” Jisung gestured to the dining table and Jinyoung just nodded._

_The table wasn’t particularly far away. He could still see Jisung, but it was enough of a distance that Jinyoung finally found the room to breathe and accept he was stuck here for the day. He wished his parents could have considered how uncomfortable it would be for him to be in a complete strangers home, but that was apparently asking too much._

_He reached for his satchel and pulled out his homework. Maybe if he at least convinced himself he was busy some of that awkward tension would drain away._

_He’d managed to get pretty invested in his math homework, almost forgetting where he was, when a voice distracted him again._

_“What’s going on?” it asked._

_Jinyoung looked up on instinct. His eyes met with a boy he was sure he recognised. Jinyoung had seen him around school, though they’d never spoken. Nothing in his puzzled gaze suggested he recognised Jinyoung. Jinyoung didn’t know why it would. It seemed that no one but his parents ever noticed him._

_“This is Bae Jinyoung. He lives down the road. His parents suddenly got called into work and don’t like leaving him alone in the house so I said I’d keep an eye on him until they got back.”_

_"Oh, okay…” Daehwi trailed off, apparently not sure what he should say from there._

_“Don’t you have to uhhh...clean your room?” Jisung suddenly asked Daehwi._

_“No?” Daehwi sounded puzzled. “My room is like...always clean.”_

_“Right, right, of course. But what about Guanlin’s room?”_

_“What about it?”_

_“You should go clean it!”_

_“Why would I clean Guanlin’s room? Why would I even go into Guanlins’s room? That place is atrocious!”_

_“Exactly! Which is why you should help him! Let’s go!” Jisung ushered Daehwi out of the room despite his protests. He  heard a ‘bye Jinyoung,’ from Daehwi before they were both gone._

_That was...weird. Why was Jisung so dead set on getting Daehwi out of the room? Why was Daehwi so intent on staying? Did Daehwi know who he was after all? Did he want to keep an eye on the weird kid who couldn’t be left alone? No, that was ridiculous...but…_

_Jisung came back into the room and gave him an awkward smile. All Jinyoung could think was that he didn’t want to be here. Suddenly, Jisung’s awkward smile turned into an open-mouthed expression of shock._

_“Jinyoung?”_

_“Yeah?” Jinyoung said. Well, tried to say, he couldn’t hear himself._

_Oh god._

_It had happened again. It had happened and this time it hadn’t happened when he was alone in his room or at school where no one noticed him anyway. No, Jisung had been looking right at him. He wanted to believe that maybe, somehow, he hadn’t noticed him disappear right before his eyes, but the way he was looking at where Jinyoung was (should be?) told him that was too much to ask for._

_“Are you still there?” Jisung was closer now, crouching in Jinyoung’s line of sight. He waved a hand in front of Jinyoung, as if Jinyoung was the one who couldn’t see him and not the other way around._

_If he really thought Jinyoung wasn’t there, Jinyoung would get in trouble. Jisung would call his parents, his parents would probably call the police again, and Jisung would get in trouble too even though he hadn’t really done anything. That wasn’t what Jinyoung wanted. He was tired of his parents stressing over something he hadn’t even done, and Jisung didn’t deserve that either, he’d been nothing but nice to Jinyoung since he got here no matter how uneasy the atmosphere had been._

_Jinyoung didn’t realize he was back until Jisung smiled again. “Hey, where’d you go?”_

_“I, uhhh.” Jinyoung looked around nervously. “I—“_

_“Do you know?” Jisung asked. He seemed less confused than Jinyoung did about the whole situation. How could that be? It seemed kind of unfair, if Jinyoung was honest. “What just happened to you, I mean. What I’m guessing has been happening to you for a while now?”_

_“I…” Jinyoung’s voice came out strangled. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say. No one had ever seen before. No one had ever listened before. “I’ve been...disappearing? a lot. No one can see me. Or hear me. Or touch me, they just go right through.”_

_Jisung nodded. “But do you know why?”_

_It sounded like a trick question. Like Jisung knew something he didn’t. This was all so overwhelming, so confusing, so not how he was expecting the day to end up._

_Jinyoung shook his head. The truth was he had no idea. He wasn’t even sure he’d ever stopped to wonder. Why wouldn’t this happen to him? Why didn’t he need yet another thing to worry about?_

_It turned out that Jisung did know something he didn’t. He explained what he knew to Jinyoung, quietly, patiently, and like he could really see him. The explanation made no sense, but who was Jinyoung to argue with it?_

_“So...other people are like this too?”_

_Jisung nodded. “You know Daehwi back there? The reason I was trying to kick him out of the room is because he has a power too. He can’t control it yet, like you can’t. I didn’t want him to accidentally lose control in front of you when I didn’t know you were like us.”_

_“Us?”_

_“Like Daehwi, and me, and everyone else here you haven’t met yet.”_

_“So...what do you do? I mean...what do I do now?”_

_“Well, if you want, you can tell your parents you had such a great time here today and you want to come over more often. Then, we can help you, so your parents don’t keep thinking they’ve got a serial runaway on their hands.” Jisung laughed._

_Jinyoung found himself laughing too. “You’d really do that? For me?”_

_“Of course, what are friends for?”_

 

 

He gets a text first, but it’s still somehow surprising when they come through the door. Jinyoung still thinks there’s too many of them, even though there’s less of them than last time. The room is a different place when it’s just him in a bed and when it’s all of them together. He likes it a lot more this way.

The questions are routine at this point, but he lets them ask, and he answers. He knows they only ask because they care, and don’t push him to answer also because they care. Still, he rushes through his responses—  he has his own question to ask, questions that are almost routine now too.

“Any news about Woojin?”

“Nothing.” Jisung shakes his head. “As far as we can tell, he’s just gone.”

“Are you looking?”

“Enough to make sure he’s nowhere near us.” Jaehwan snorts.

“It’s weird, that he just disappeared like that,” Jinyoung ponders out loud. “It’s been a week and there’s been no news. Do you think he’s planning something?”

“Has to be, right? Probably just sorting out whatever the backup plan is with that boss of his.”

Jinyoung nods, pensive. He hates waiting. He especially hates waiting when he has no idea when the thing he’s waiting for is going to happen. “And what about...you know?”

“No news there either. Always was hard to track down, that one,” Jisung says.

They descend into silence then— heavy, thoughtful silence. It feels like they’re waiting for something, waiting for the other shoe to drop yet again.

Jinyoung loves his friends, and this would be so much more awful without them, but if he’s honest, for the past week it hasn’t been great with them here either.

The silence is broken when doctor Kim peeks her head around the door and says “Great news, Jinyoung! You can go home today!”

 

* * *

 

Jihoon clenches his fists in the pocket of his hoodie. He is trying to watch where he’s going. He is trying to make a mental map of the steps he takes while recalling on his old one for what steps to take next. He is trying to do all of this while turning the gears in his head to work out what happened. This normally leads to answers. He can normally work anything out if he just thinks about it.

But he can’t figure  _this_ out.

He can’t figure out why everyone suddenly turned on him. He can’t figure out why he was kicked out of his home last night. He can’t figure out why they said the things they said and did the things they did.

He just knows it wasn’t right.

This isn’t  _them_. Jihoon knows that better than he knows himself. Those are the people he lived with, those are the people he would die for, and he would not live with or die for anyone who would not do the same for him.The first seventeen years of his life prove that, and he had not made a mistake when he finally changed his mind.

 

 

_“I brought you some chocolate.”_

_Jihoon looked at the bar dismissively but took it anyway._

_“What happened to ‘only food that’s nourishing,’ Jihoon asked, tearing the wrapper open._

_Jisung shrugged. “Sugar is an important food group too.”_

_“Or you’re trying to butter me up,” Jihoon said._

_Jisung had been hanging around for what must have been about six months now. They’d met when he’d come to Jihoon’s table to gamble, but Jihoon could tell that it wasn’t about the money or the game— he’d been concerned, concerned about a kid gambling on the streets and wanted an excuse to talk to him. Jihoon hadn’t given him an in. He’d played the game, keeping his metaphorical cards close to his chest as he splayed the real ones out on the table. When Jihoon had won, Jisung had given him a look that said he was only more curious than before._

_Since that day he’d randomly shown up a lot. At first Jihoon had just ran from him or pushed him away, but eventually he’d stood his ground asked why exactly the older man was following him. Jisung had handed him a warm, styrofoam cup of soup from his jacket and said ‘I want to help you.’_

_Jihoon didn’t need help, but he’d still took the soup, and all the food and other things Jisung had offered after that. All except one thing— a place to sleep. Jisung offered him a bedroom in his house, and Jihoon always turned him down._

_“So,” Jisung leaned against the wall of the alley they’re standing in. This probably looked suspicious as hell from the outside, but there was no one walking past and if there was they’d probably pay the two no mind. It wasn’t their business, and most people chose not to get involved in things that didn’t concern them— except Jisung. “Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?”_

_Jihoon raised an eyebrow. “I always have somewhere.”_

_Jisung rolled his eyes. Maybe once, Jihoon would have found that insulting, but he knew now that Jisung meant nothing rude by it. He’d been suspicious of the older man's intentions at first, of course, but it didn’t take him long to realize he was genuinely caring. Now, the roll of his eyes just seemed harmless, maybe even...fond._

_“Does this place have a bed? Does it have a roof?”_

_“Yes.”_

_Jisung looked surprised at that. “Where are you staying?”_

_Jihoon cocked his head, deliberating if he should tell. It didn’t take him long to decide that there was no harm in it. Besides, it was cold out tonight, and if Jisung was sticking around for a while then he’d like to continue their little meeting somewhere where the weather was a bit less harsh._

_“Follow me.” Jihoon got up and started walking without saying anything else. He knew Jisung was following._

_He lead Jisung through alleys and side streets. He never slowed down or looked back, but Jisung was capable of keeping up. He’d learned that back when he was always tried to avoid him. Jisung almost managed to follow him or track him down again. It didn’t take long until Jihoon drew to a halt in one of the alleyways._

_“Here we are.”_

_Jisung frowned. “There’s no bed or roof here, Jihoon.”_

_Jihoon chuckled. “Guess you’re not as observant as you think.”_

_He jumped up and grabbed onto the fire escape. It was old, rusted, broken, so that little bit of ladder didn’t come down and instead he used all the upper body strength he had to pull himself up. Once he was stood on the landing, he turned to Jisung._

_“Coming?”_

_Jisung pulled himself up with very little hesitation, and together they walked up the stairs and entered the top apartment._

_It was abandoned— had been for years, probably. The walls were cracked, peeling, and covered in graffiti obscenities. Some furniture had been left behind: a beat up sofa, a thin mattress, an empty crate that functioned as a coffee table. When Jihoon has found it everything had been covered in a thick layer of dust, but he’d managed to shift most of it. He’d stolen some clean white sheets for the mattress. He knew Jisung would look at it and think it wasn’t anything much, but it was the closest thing to a home Jihoon had ever had._

_“It’s—“ Jisung starts. “Eclectic”_

_“Mhmm” Jihoon nodded. “So, you gonna leave me alone now?”_

_Jisung sighed. He did that a lot when it came to Jihoon. “I don’t get it. Why would you rather live in...this place...than in a real home with furniture and food and other people to talk to?”_

_Jihoon stared at him, face so blank it was intimidating. “Because this is how I’ve always lived, and I get by. I know how to survive out here. I know how to get whatever I want out here. I—“_

_“What about your power?” Jisung cut in._

_Jihoon froze, the gears in his head even ground to a halt. “My what?”_

_Jisung looked unusually unsure of himself in that moment. “Maybe i’m wrong, Jihoon. You’re...not like the others. No matter much time I spend with you I’m just not sure. But...since the moment you beat me at cards I’ve had the feeling that you can do something other people can’t.” He took a deep breath “Is that true?”_

_“I—“ Jihoon had tried a million facades over the years, but none seemed to fit right now. He didn’t know how to respond, he didn’t know how to calculate the odds in his mind— or maybe he just didn’t want to. “I don’t know what it is, that I do.” He felt like he was giving in to something by talking, but he also didn’t want to stop. “I decide I want things to happen, and they do. I decide I don’t want them to happen, and they don’t.” The next part hurt to say, It was something he’d never been able to talk about out loud before, but it was one of the few things in life that truly got to him. “Except sometimes it doesn’t work. Sometimes the opposite happens instead.”_

_“What’s gone wrong? When it hasn’t worked?” Jisung asked slowly, carefully, like he was pulling Jihoon out of the headspace he’d worked himself into._

_“Nothing huge, really. I lose a card game. I don’t get into a motel with no money. I lose a petty street fight with some other homeless kid. It’s not what’s gone wrong that I hate, it’s just that it goes wrong. I hate that—“ Jihoon cut himself off. He’d never talked about himself before, not his real self, and certainly not like this, not the person he was when it was just him. The words felt strange on his tongue and he didn’t know how Jisung would react to it._

_“You hate that you can’t control it.” Jisung supplied._

_Jihoon looked up at him in shock. Jisung smiled at him “Maybe I’m not as unobservant as you think.”_

_Jihoon chuckled, but the second of amusement and ease he felt quickly disappeared. “What about it, anyway? How does that make a difference to where I should live?”_

_“You hate that you can’t control it. We can help you control it. You don’t have to do this alone, Jihoon, not anymore.”_

_Jihoon took a deep breath. Learning to control this thing, it was what he wanted, had wanted for a long time. He wasn’t sure how he felt about going with Jisung, about living in his house, about living with the other people in his house. He liked Jisung, he trusted Jisung, but he didn’t know the rest. Still, learning control, it was worth it._

_“Okay,” Jihoon said. “I’ll go with you.”_

 

 

Jihoon knows they wouldn't do this. He knows that the man who was once so adamant on taking him in wouldn’t just kick him out. He knows that the other people there who he has learned to love and trust and who had done the same with him wouldn’t do this. He knows—

He catches something out the corner of his eye.

He knows that head of hair and the slope of those shoulders.

He freezes but only for a moment, then he runs towards the boy. Before he even notices that Jihoon is there, Jihoon has grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a nearby alley and slammed him against the wall. The boy struggles against his hold instinctively, but Jihoon holds on.

“What did you do, Woojin?” Jihoon can hear the darkness in his own voice, and it’s not just an act to intimidate someone this time.

Woojin stops struggling then. He finally looks at Jihoon, eyes wide. “Jihoon?” His voice is choked with disbelief.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He stares directly into Woojin’s eyes. “Now tell me what you did.”

“What do you mean, what I did? I didn’t do anything!” He looks like he wants to flail his arms to emphasise his point, but Jihoon has a grip on his forearm and his other hand pushing against the opposite shoulder.

“You obviously did something!” Jihoon seethes. “You have to have done something to them. They wouldn’t just kick me out. And all our problems started when you came along.”

Woojin well and truly stills then. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, and the car is speeding towards him way too fast. “They kicked you out?”

“Yeah. But it wasn’t really them. I know it couldn’t be.”

Woojin’s mouth forms a grin. Jihoon feels anger surge through him. Is he smiling at Jihoon’s pain? The pain that  _he_ caused?

“Don’t you see what this means?” Woojin asks.

Jihoon doesn’t. He has no idea what Woojin is talking about.That only serves to fuel the anger burning in him. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“It means that maybe the same thing happened to both of us. It means that they didn’t really want to kick either of us out, but something made them do it.”

“No!” Jihoon says harshly. “I’m nothing like you. You were out to hurt us. You were never really one of us! And you did it right when I was starting to trust you!”

Woojin levels Jihoon with a look so full of hurt it sends him reeling even though it shouldn’t. “I bet they said the same things about you.”

Jihoon’s grip slackens as he thinks. He thinks, and he thinks. He knows Woojin is looking at him, but Jihoon can’t bring himself to look back. “They said that I...that I was on your side, that I’d always paid too much attention to you, that I only distanced myself from you at the start so as to not seem suspicious. It...none of it made any sense. That’s not what happened at all.”

He finally looks at Woojin, and sees shock etched in his features, but more than that he sees understanding.

“I really wasn’t doing anything with that machine. I was really never going to hurt any of you. Any ties I had to the boss and the mansion were cut when I left. You have to believe me.”

Jihoon gets what Woojin is trying to say. He can feel little pieces he hadn’t understood before slotting into place in his mind. Still, the only thing he says is a struggled “I don’t know if I can.”

Woojin has always been so, so difficult for him to read, so difficult that it drives him crazy. It’s no different now. Jihoon could never have predicted Woojin’s next words would be “What if you used your power on me?”

“What?” Jihoon is proud of the fact that he doesn’t splutter. It’s the only piece of control he feels like he can maintain right now.

“If you decided it was 100% likely that i was telling the truth, and made me say it again. Would that work?”

“You...you trust me to use my power on you?” Jihoon feels something unfamiliar settle in his chest. He ignores it. He doesn’t know what it is or what it means, and even if he did he has more important things to think about.

“Yes. I trust you,” Woojin says, unwavering.

The thing in his chest grows— a spark igniting into a flame.

Jihoon shakes his head, both in denial and to get his thoughts back on track.

“That won’t work anyway. My powers don’t always work, if it goes wrong then you’ll be lying to me either way.”

“Then ask me again, and again, and again. Ask as many times as you need to.”

Woojin’s conviction is so intense that Jihoon takes a deep breath through his nose and whispers “okay” before he even realizes he’s doing it.

So he asks.

“Who are you, what were you doing with this machine, and do you or have you ever intended to hurt them?”

“I’m Park Woojin. I was just looking at it, I was bored and curious. Never, in my life, had I ever considered it.

And he asks again.

“I’m Park Woojin. I was just looking at it, I was bored and curious. Never, in my life, had I ever considered it.”

And again.

And again.

And again.

He keeps asking and Woojin keeps saying the same thing. Until the one time he doesn’t, until the one time he gives Jihoon a different name and says he wants to hurt them all more than anything. When Jihoon asks again, his answer is back to normal, the same words he’d said so often before that even Jihoon has lost count.

Jihoon’s powers have always worked more often than not.

“I’m done asking,” Jihoon says.

“Really?” Woojin asks.

“Yes.” Jihoon looks him straight in the eyes for the second time since he pulled him into this alleyway. “I trust you.”

Woojin’s answering smile isn’t hard to read at all.

“So, what now?” Woojin asks.

“Now...now we work together. I’m going to figure out what happened to us, what happened to our friends, and you’re going to help me.”

“But we have nowhere to go.”

Jihoon had noticed Woojin’s slightly beat up clothes and the fact it looks like he hasn’t showered in the week he’s been gone. He realises now— and he should have realised earlier, but he was too caught up in his anger— that means he’s probably been living on the streets for the past week. He has no idea how to survive out here.

Jihoon grins. “I know a place. Follow me.”

 

* * *

 

“I said I’m fine.”

“I know, but—“

Jinyoung gives him a tired smile. “Really, Daniel, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Daniel concedes quietly. “But I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

“I know. Thank you.”

Daniel closes the door, entering the hallway and leaving Jinyoung tucked up in bed. He’s been checking on the boy practically every five minutes since he got back from the hospital earlier that day. He’s brought him soup, and water, and the pills the doctor prescribed, even though Jinyoung insists he should be moving around to get his strength back and he’s probably right. Knowing that Jinyoung is probably right doesn’t stop him though.

If he can’t help Jinyoung right now then what can he do?

He takes a seat on the stairs. He’s been hovering in this spot for most of the day. The living room is, possibly for the first time since Daniel moved in, empty. Everyone has holed themselves up in their respective bedrooms, even Daehwi once Jinyoung shooed him away more effectively that he’s managed to get rid of Daniel.

He could go to his own room, but he’d promised Jinyoung he’d be right outside. That’s a weak excuse, he knows it— Jinyoung’s reaction to his constant fussing was to tell _Daniel_ to get some rest.

He expects to be alone. He’s been alone all day whenever he hasn’t been with Jinyoung. He almost jumps when someone squeezes onto the stair next to him.

“Hey it’s just me,” Seongwoo says. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Well, I’m looking for my boyfriend. He’s about yay high, kinda cute, hasn’t talked to me all day.”

Daniel laughs, but it’s weak, a facsimile of his real laugh. “I’m sorry...it’s not you, it’s just…”

“Not the same?” Seongwoo offers.

“Yeah,” Daniel breathes, staring at his hands. “I...wish Woojin and Jihoon were here.”

“They were assholes, Daniel.”

“I know, but they were family. We considered them family, even if they weren’t who they thought they were. I feel guilty just sending them away like that.”

“I understand that,” Seongwoo says. “It’s okay to still care.”

“I just...wish none of this had ever happened. I wish this hadn’t happened with Woojin, or Jihoon, and that this hadn’t happened to Jinyoung. I just...wish we could all be happy together. I’d give anything for that.”

“That-” Seongwoo lifts his chin and places a quick kiss on his lips. “-Is why I fell in love with you.”

Daniel’s giggle doesn’t feel as forced this time. “I don’t think I’m even the same person I was back then.”

 

 

_Daniel had been curled up on the windowsill in his room since he got home. He knew, vaguely, in the back of his mind, that he should be studying right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His mom would kill him if she ever found out, but he wouldn’t be able to focus on whatever was in his books right now anyway. His mind was occupied with the same thing he’d been thinking about all day._

_Daniel’s bedroom door opened. He jumped, presuming it was his mother. He immediately tried coming up with some excuse as to why he was just sitting there. Thankfully, it was just Jisung. Jisung looked at him for a moment before he practically rushed to his side, squeezing onto the window ledge too so they were facing each other._

_“What’s up?” Jisung asked._

_Daniel gave him the biggest attempt at a smile that he could muster._

_“C’mon, ‘Neil, don’t be like that, not with me.” Jisung chided softly._

_Daniel let the smile drop. Anxiety was swirling in his stomach at the idea of saying what was wrong out loud. He wanted to hide it away and forget. But he couldn’t do that, not from himself apparently, and not from Jisung. They didn’t have secrets, and it there was person he could talk to about this it was him_

_“You know...how you told me you like boys?” Daniel’s voice was small, like saying it any louder would mean the entire world would find out what was wrong with him._

_“Not just boys, but yeah.” Jisung nodded._

_“How...how did you know?”_

_Jisung’s facial expression melted into something of blinding support._

_“Daniel, why are you asking me this?”_

_“Do you remember Seongwoo?”_

_Jisung’s eyebrows climbed into his forehead  “The guy from that party? The one who hit on you in the kitchen? Which you wouldn’t stop talking about for like...an hour after because ‘haha isn’t that weird.’”_

_Daniel was torn between laughing and groaning at the memory. “Yeah, that one. We’ve kind of been..hanging out.”_

_“Why didn’t you tell me?”_

_“It was no big deal. It just of kind of happened one day; I was studying in the public library,  in my usual corner, you know? Not many people study there because there’s only two chairs and it’s bordered by the useless cookery and gardening shelves.” Jisung nodded. He already knew all this. He probably just wanted Daniel to get to the point, but he didn’t actually say or do anything to rush him. “Well, one day Seongwoo comes up and is like...hey, mind if I sit here? So I said sure. It’s not like I hadn’t seen him around since the party and he seemed nice enough, always smiled at me and stuff. So we were studying, and then we got to talking, and god, he’s funny and he’s fun and I know everything makes me laugh but he really made me laugh. That happened a few more times and then it just became a thing.”_

_“So what does this have to do with me liking boys?”_

_“Well, yesterday we were in the library again. It was getting late but I had to finish that project for history. By the time I was done it was dark out and Seongwoo insisted on walking me home. So he did, and we talked and it was normal and fine. Then, we were outside my house we were saying goodbye and he kind of...kissed me.” Daniel finished. It was both unsettling and comforting to get that out in the open, to say the thing that had been haunting his mind and consuming his thoughts out loud._

_“So he kissed you? What did you do?”_

_Daniel bit his bottom lip, chewing a little roughly. He didn’t meet Jisung’s eyes when he said. “I kissed back. I kissed back and then I ran inside my house without saying goodbye.”_

_Jisung was silent for a moment and even though Daniel knew he was talking to the one person he knew who wouldn’t judge him, he still held his breath in fear of whatever Jisung was thinking._

_“Did you like the kiss?” Jisung asked._

_Daniel fidgeted. “He— he was a good kisser. I don’t know. It’s not like I have much experience in that area!”_

_“But did you like kissing him?” Jisung continued, emphasis on the ‘him’._

_“I...I don’t like boys. I can’t like boys.” Daniel whispered._

_Daniel didn’t realise he was crying until Jisung enveloped him in a hug and let Daniel hide his face in the crook of his neck. He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but when Daniel disentangled himself the sun was starting to set._

_“Even...even if I did like it— even if I did like him, it’s not like he really likes me. I’m pretty sure he’s done stuff with half the school by now.”_

_“Maybe so. Everyone knows that. But do you know what else everyone knows?” Jisung asked. “Everyone knows Ong Seongwoo wouldn’t be caught dead studying, but he’s done it everyday with you.”_

_“That—“ Daniel laughed awkwardly even as he felt his heart picking up speed. That was just the nerves, he told himself. “That doesn’t mean anything. He just...decided to take school more seriously, or he...only did it to get in my pants.”_

_Jisung burst into laughter. “I don’t think I have ever heard you allude to anyone getting into anyone’s pants.”_

_Daniel ducked his head in Jisung’s neck again. “Be serious! I’m kind of freaking out here!”_

_“Okay, okay,” Jisung breathed before gently pushing Daniel back so they were facing him each other again._

_“I mean it though. I think he likes you.”_

_“WelI, I don’t like him.”_

_“Do you really mean that?” Jisung looked at Daniel like he could see right through him._

_“Yes,” Daniel said._

_He had no other option._

 

_“You weren’t at the library yesterday?” Daniel looked up and realized Seongwoo had somehow materialized next to his locker without him noticing._

_“Oh, uh, yeah,” Daniel readjusted the pile of books in his hands as an excuse not to look at the other boy. “I had to help my mom with something.”_

_“Oh, alright. Was it something serious? Is everything okay?”_

_“Yeah, she just wanted help with uhh...party planning?” If Seongwoo could tell Daniel was very obviously lying, he didn’t show it._

_“Well, will I see you this afternoon? I’ll bring coffee from that place you like.”_

_“I—“ Daniel tried to think of another lie off the top of his head. In doing so, he ended up looking up at Seongwoo again. He was smiling, but he looked almost...nervous. That wasn’t an emotion that he thought he’d ever seen on Seongwoo’s face before, and it was what made him mutter out a “Yeah, sure.”_

_“Great, I’ll see you there!” Seongwoo walked off, and Daniel cursed his whole existence._

 

_He did debate just not showing up. He could leave Seongwoo hanging, come up with another excuse tomorrow if asked, and if Seongwoo didn’t give up then and there then he would eventually._

_But that felt cruel (and maybe he just didn’t want to) so he dragged his feet to the library. Seongwoo was already in their (when did it become theirs and not just his) usual spot._

_“Got your drink.” Seongwoo slid it over to him with a smile._

_“Thanks,” Daniel took a sip, surprised to realize that it was his favourite. Sure, he’d ordered it in front of Seongwoo multiple times, but he’d never expected him to pay attention._

_“I even remembered the extra espresso shot,” Seongwoo pointed out._

_“Thank you,” Daniel smiled. He didn’t know if this was making the anxious feeling in his stomach worse or better._

_“So, what are you working on today?” Seongwoo asked._

_“Bio presentation, English essay, then rewriting out my notes for today. You?”_

_“History essay.” Seongwoo told him._

_“Is that it?” Daniel asked._

_“Yeah. Some of us aren’t taking every elective possible.”_

_“Do you always only do one thing while we’re here?”_

_“One or two, yeah.” Seongwoo shrugged._

_Daniel furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “But you always leave the same time I do?”_

_“I wait.” Seongwoo shrugged a second time, like it was no big deal._

_Daniel’s heart was beating too fast again. His mouth felt dry. ‘I think he likes you,’ was echoing in Jisung’s voice in his head._

_Daniel just nodded, stilted and awkward, before opening his book and burying himself in it. They studied for a while. The only sound was the music leaking out of Seongwoo’s earphones and the quiet shuffling of other patrons. It became easy to forget that anything unusual had happened between them. At least it did, until Seongwoo put down his pen and suggested they take a break._

_“I still have another chapter to read,” Daniel replied._

_“You can do it later. I need a break, there’s too many facts in my head right now. Besides, don’t you think we should talk about it?” Seongwoo said this as casually as if he’d asked Daniel to discuss the weather._

_"Talk about what?” Daniel asked, even though he knew. He knew._

_Seongwoo scoffed, Daniel wasn’t sure whether it was annoyed or amused. “The kiss, Daniel. The fact we like each other, Daniel.”_

_“I— I don’t like guys.” Daniel’s chuckle was so obviously forced that he knew Seongwoo would never believe it._

_“Come on, Daniel. I know it can be hard to admit but you obviously have feelings for me.”_

_“Oh, yeah? And how do you know that? Are you that self-absorbed that you think even straight guys can’t resist you?” Daniel can hear an anger leaking into his voice that he’s entirely unfamiliar with, at least outside of the realms of his own head._

_“No!” Seongwoo exploded, then seemed to reel himself in a bit before saying “I just know, okay?”_

_“Yeah, well, you don’t know me.” You don’t know how my mother has drilled into me that this is something I could never do. You don’t know how I don’t need yet another way to disappoint her. You don’t know how everything about me is wrong and you don’t want me. “Just...stay away from me, okay? I don’t think we should stay friends.” Because I don’t know how long I can keep denying this to myself. I don’t know how to be with you even if it could happen. I don’t know how long it could last before you realise i’m not whatever you’re looking for._

_“Yeah, fine,” Seongwoo said, steely and emotionless. He gathered up his stuff, unceremoniously shoving it in his bag. As he was walking away Daniel heard him mutter to himself “Can’t believe the first person I really have feelings turns out to be a closet-case. Good going, Seongwoo.”_

_It hurt Daniel more than it should._

 

 

“You are, in some ways,” Seongwoo says. “But you’ve grown a lot too.”

“I’m glad,” Daniel says, and the words do make him feel a little bit happier but he’s still miserable.

“You guys okay?” Jaehwan walks down the stairs and stops behind them— not that he really has an option since they’re blocking the way— he sits on the step behind them, adjusting himself so that he’s sideways and his legs aren’t in their way.

“We’re fine,” Daniel says immediately.

Jaehwan leans his hand down to stroke in through Daniel’s hair. Daniel can’t help but lean into the touch.

“Don’t lie to me, Daniel. I know you’re not fine.” He snorts

“Oh yeah?” Daniel asks. “Are you Seongwoo now?”

“No, I’m just not stupid.”

“That’s news to me,” Seongwoo says.

“Hey.” Jaehwan kicks him best he can from their awkward positions. “We’re trying to have an emotional moment here.”

“Ow.” Seongwoo rubs the spot where Jaehwan kicked him. “Anyway, how are you?”

“Yeah, you’re basically the only person that’s spoke to us all day,” Daniel adds glumly.

“It’s not just you guys. I don’t think anyone is really talking to anyone. It’s been like this since...you know.”  _Woojin running away_ “And then you know what happened.”  _Jihoon getting kicked out._ “No one's talking to each other. I hope they get their shit together soon.”

Daniel knows that what Jaehwan means is ‘I hope everything goes back to normal soon.’ but can it? Their group has lost two people and been fundamentally changed. Can they really recover from something like that? Daniel doesn’t know, and he doesn’t want to think about it.

He leans back into Jaehwan, resting on him and giving him better access to his hair. “Yeah, I hope so too.”

 

* * *

 

Minhyun feels the heaviness in his limbs and the ache in his bones that only comes from pure exhaustion. He’s no stranger to it, but that doesn’t make it any more pleasant.

He has barely slept since the day Jinyoung ended up in hospital, and it had only gotten worse with Woojin, and then Jihoon. Now, he thinks it’s been days since he slept at all.

He’s so tired. He just wants to close his eyes and rest, but he feels like if he does then something else will go wrong.

Someone else he cares about will disappear. That’s just what happens to him.

 

 

_“Do you want to watch a movie tonight?”_

_“Not tonight. I’m working on something.”_

_Minhyun sighed, sinking back to the sofa and looking back to the blank TV instead of back at his boyfriend._

_“You’ve been working on something for weeks now.” Minhyun pointed out._

_It was true. Everyday Jonghyun had done little more than sit at the table and scroll through his laptop. Minhyun didn’t know how he could spend all his time like that. He was bored just watching him._

_“What are you working on?” Minhyun asked when Jonghyun didn’t reply._

_“It’s nothing,” Jonghyun waved his hand, not looking away from his laptop._

_Minhyun sighed. This what it had been like for weeks now. He knew it couldn’t really be nothing, but Jonghyun wouldn’t speak to him. Not only about what he was doing but at all. They had never been like this. This wasn’t how their relationship worked. They always talked about everything, no matter what it was. This was entirely new territory, and Minhyun didn’t know what to do._

_“I’ll order takeout, any requests?”_

_“Whatever,” Jonghyun said. “I’m not hungry.”_

_“I’ll get you something anyway,” Minhyun said after a moment._

 

_Minhyun took the boxes from the delivery man when they arrived and thanked him before closing the door._

_“I got you dumplings,” Minhyun places them in front of Jonghyun, already knowing he’ll probably hardly touch them._

_Minhyun ate his food alone on the sofa and ended up leaving half of it in the fridge along with Jonghyun's untouched box. He just wasn’t hungry. He also wasn’t tired, but going to bed sounded better than staying in the living room where Jonghyun continued to not acknowledge him._

_“I’m going to bed, are you coming?”_

_“Not right now. I’ll be there soon.”_

_Minhyun didn’t even blink at the response. He wasn’t expecting any different. He crawled into their double bed alone and waited to fall asleep._

 

_“Minhyun? Lovebird?”_

_Minhyun roused, still half asleep. He blinked heavily until the world came into focus again._

_“Jonghyun?”_

_His boyfriend was lying next to him where he normally slept, but he was on top of the covers and wearing jeans and a jacket instead of his boxers and an old t-shirt._

_“Yeah, it’s me,” Jonghyun whispered._

_“What’s going on?” Minhyun asked, voice still thick with sleep._

_“I,” Even in his sleepy haze Minhyun could tell that there was something off about Jonghyun. He could be shy, but not like this, not with Minhyun. Jonghyun grabbed Minhyun’s hand that was laying on top of the covers. His eyes focused on his fingers that he was trailing this knuckles instead of looking in his eyes. It confused Minhyun but he also relished in that little bit of contact after the week of distance between them. “I’m going out for a bit.”_

_“Where?” Minhyun asked. “I’ll come with you.”_

_“No,” Jonghyun breathed. “I’m going alone. But I’ll be home soon.”_

_Was this a dream? There was something wrong about it, niggling at the back of Minhyun’s tired mind._

_“Where are you going? Why can’t I come with you?”_

_“It doesn’t matter. Just stay here. Stay safe.” Jonghyun lifted up Minhyun’s hand and pressed a kiss onto his knuckles._

_If Minhyun was more awake,  he’d like to think he would have said more. He liked to think that he’d make Jonghyun stay. He liked to think that he would have at least said goodbye. But as Jonghyun walked away, he was already falling back asleep._

 

_“I’m sure he’ll be back soon. He just…” Aron trailed off, flailing his arms as he paced._

_“He’s been gone all day. He’s never done this before.” Minhyun stressed._

_“There’s a first time for everything!” Minki said, “Maybe he’s having an affair!”_

_“Is that supposed to make Minhyun feel better?” Dongho slapped Minki’s arm._

_They were all standing around Minhyun and Jonghyun’s living room. It was  two a.m, probably around the same time Jonghyun had left last night— though Minhyun hadn’t checked— and he still hadn’t come home._

_Minhyun had tried texting and calling, but he’d gotten no answer. The phone had rung out, again and again, and Minhyun had felt some of his sanity go with it. He’d let most of the day pass, waiting, but when it had hit the evening he’d called their friends to see if he was with them and they’d rushed right over._

_“He’s not having an affair. I think this was something crime fighting related. He said he wanted me to stay here. Stay safe.”_

_“But he didn’t mention anything to us? Why wouldn’t he tell us? Why wouldn’t he take us with him?”_

_“I don’t know,” Minhyun sighed. “I don’t even know if I’m right. I’m just saying all I can think of.”_

_In truth, Minhyun knew that he was probably right. The vision he’d had a few days ago was playing on a loop in his mind. It had scared the life out of him when he’d had it. He hadn’t understood what was happening, but he knew that it was about Jonghyun and it was nothing good. He’d talked to Jonghyun about it, but his boyfriend had whispered comforts and reassurances into his skin until he forgot about it. Thinking about it now, he wondered if Jonghyun had already known it was going to happen and that was why he was so calm._

_He didn’t want to tell the others about the vision, not yet. Maybe it really had been nothing. He didn’t want to worry them over nothing. (He didn’t want to admit it could be real.) (He didn’t want to think this was somehow his fault because he hadn’t taken it seriously enough.)_

_“Well if it is where would he of gone? And why isn’t he back then?”_

_They were getting nowhere like this. They could keep asking questions but they had no answers, especially since they weren’t thinking straight due to the sheer panic they’d all worked themselves into._

_“Maybe we should get some rest,” Minhyun said, though he didn’t want to rest at all. “He’ll probably be back by morning, and if not…”_

_Aron glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. “It’s only ten p.m?”_

_“Oh, that clock is broken.  It’s actually—” Minhyun picked up his phone to look at the time. He felt an uncomfortable ache looking at his lockscreen of him and Jonghyun kissing in front of the fireworks last new years. “Half past two in the morning.”_

_“Okay, yeah, we should definitely get some sleep,” Aron agreed._

_Minhyun pulled out the sofa and got all the spare blankets out of the closet and handed them to his friends before going to his and Jonghyun’s bedroom alone._

_He got no sleep that night and Jonghyun didn’t come back in the morning._

 

 

He feels like he should go back to his mission of looking for Jonghyun. He hasn’t made any effort to even try since the day Jinyoung ended up in hospital. He  _should_ do it, but he just doesn’t feel like it. He doesn’t know what to think about that. He’s spent every moment obsessed for a year now, but now he can’t bring himself to even turn on his computer.

He hasn’t even thought about Jonghyun.

A heavy pang of guilt hits him when he realizes that. He hasn’t even thought about his missing boyfriend. He’s been more concerned with his friends. He’s spent every moment worrying about Jinyoung, or Woojin, or Jihoon.

Is this what Minki meant by moving on?

He thought moving on was supposed to feel  _good_.

But he knows he hasn’t really moved on. That much is clear when he drags himself to his chair and turns on his computer despite his body being dead-weight. He knows when he pulls up all his files he’s compiled over the past year and he knows because he remembers everything that’s in them and where it is.

But he also knows that he’s thinking about his friends as much as he’s thinking about Jonghyun.

And he doesn’t know what that means for him.

He alternates between working and going to check up on Jinyoung. Jinyoung doesn’t ask for much— he doesn’t complain about the pain or exhaustion he must be feeling, he doesn’t mention how unfair it is that he’s finally home just for his friends to be hanging onto their relationships with each other by tenterhooks.

Jinyoung is one of the strongest people he’s ever met.

It reminds Minhyun how weak he is.

It reminds him he can’t let it show.

“Hey, how you holding up?” He asks, sitting on the edge of Jinyoung’s bed.

“I’m okay,” Jinyoung smiles but it’s more of a grimace. “It is time for my painkillers, though.”

“Oh, I forgot. I’m so sorry!” He immediately rushes to the door. “I’ll be right back.”

He heads up to the bathroom that has the medicine cabinet only to  find Sungwoon already rifling through it.

“You okay?” He asks.

Sungwoon turns to him, clearly surprised at Minhyun’s presence— or maybe just surprised Minhyun spoke to him, since they’ve hardly been speaking recently.

“Oh, I have a really annoying headache. Just getting something for it.” Sungwoon finds what he’s looking for and pops two pills into his hand before disappearing without another word.

Minhyun shrugs, finds Jinyoung’s pills and runs back downstairs as fast as he can.

“Did you miss me?” He tries to put some levity into his voice.

Jinyoung smiles, thankfully. “Yeah, I did,” He says. Minhyun knows he’s not just talking about the few minutes he was upstairs. “I missed all of you. This wasn’t really what I was planning on coming back to.”

“I know,” Minhyun sighs.

He hands Jinyoung his recommended dose and the glass of water on his bedside before sitting on the edge of the bed again.

“This isn’t what we wanted you to come back to either, trust me. But things are…”

“Totally fucked?” Jinyoung suggests wryly.

“I knew hanging around Jaehwan and Sungwoon was a bad influence on you kids,” Minhyun huffs a laugh.

“Well, I don’t seem to be hanging around them anymore.”

“Have they not come to see you?” Minhyun asks, immediately concerned. Everyone can ignore him if they want, they can ignore each other if they want, but Jinyoung doesn’t deserve this, not now.

“They have, but it wasn’t the same, just like you’re not the same right now,” Jinyoung shrugs, like it doesn’t bother him, but Minhyun knows that it does.

“Everything will be okay, Jinyoung,” Minhyun pats his head— it’s the first physical contact he’s had all week, and it feels almost strange on his skin.

“You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better. I’m not a kid.”

Yes, you are, Minhyun thinks.

A brave kid, and a smart kid, but still a kid.

Jinyoung doesn’t think of himself that way though, not anymore, none of them do.

Minhyun wonders if there’s anyone who looks at him and sees a child. He wonders if Jisung considers him a kid, if his parents do, if the old people he passes in the street do.

Jinyoung yawns and blinks sleepily.

“You should get some rest,” Minhyun says.

He couldn’t be a kid, even if he wanted to. He’s experienced too much. He has too much, and too many people, to look after.

“You should too.” Jinyoung shifts so that he’s lying down and closes his eyes.

He doesn’t think he’s the only one who feels that way.

“Okay, Jinyoung. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Jinyoung replies, already half asleep by the sound of it.

Minhyun doesn’t sleep that night, and everything isn't okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't really like this chapter but...here it is!
> 
> Also I've realised just how bad some of the basic grammar mistakes etc. in the early chapters were. I'm going through to edit those right now and I'd like to say thank you for looking past them to get this far


	11. Chapter 11

“-and then Samuel said ‘oh my god,’ but Somi was like— I’m sorry. I keep talking about myself.”

“No.” Jinyoung shakes his head. “I like hearing about it. Your stories are fun.”

They’re in Daehwi’s room, lying on his bed, facing each other. It’s not something they’ve ever done before. He’s not sure Jinyoung has ever actually been in his room before.

It’s nice.

“When you come back to school you should meet my friends. They’d love you.”

“Maybe.”

“They’re really nice!” Daehwi assures. “Annoying, but nice.”

“Like you then?”

“Hey,” Daehwi laughs, then sighs. “We should get up in a moment.”

“Oh yeah, training. Jisung says I’m not allowed to take part until I’m fully recovered.”

“What are you going to do then?”

“I guess I’ll just sit and watch, laugh as you guys get your asses kicked and stuff.” he shrugs.

“Okay, then we can go get milkshakes.”

“Milkshakes?”

“Yeah, milkshakes.”

“Okay, milkshakes.”

They leisurely make their way to the training room. Everyone else— Daehwi tries to ignore how it doesn’t actually feel like  _ everyone _ — is already there.

“Daehwi, would you like to practice your power today?” Jisung comes over to them as they walk through the door.

“Oh, uh, today?” Daehwi glances between Jisung and Jinyoung. “Yeah, okay.”

Jinyoung goes to sit down and Daehwi stands in the middle of the room with Jisung. Unlike whenever Jihoon practiced no one stopped what they were doing to watch him— no one except Jinyoung, anyway.

“Okay, before we do anything else, just try to make a force-field.”

Daehwi takes a deep breath and holds his hands out. He puts all his thought into trying to form that barrier, but no matter how much he imagines and visualises it, nothing happens.

He sighs and lets his arms fall back to his side.

Jisung purses his lips thoughtfully. Daehwi is pretty sure he’d been expecting more. It makes him feel even worse to know he let him down.

“Were you focusing?” Jisung asks.

“Yep.” Daehwi nods.

“Do you want to try again?”

Not really.

“Sure.”

“Okay. I’ll give you something to actually block, maybe that will help.”

They’ve already done all of this. Daehwi has been trying to learn how to control his powers since he came here, they’ve tried  _ everything _ , but he doubts he’s improved at all since the day he met Jisung.

But Jisung will never give up on him.

In attempt after attempt, Daehwi only manages to block the small ball Jisung throws at him once, and the forcefield is small and weak.

Eventually, Jisung calls an end to their practice. Daehwi collapses into sitting on the floor and holding his head in his hands.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Daehwi looks up and finds Jinyoung sat across from him, smiling gently.

“I can’t do it,” Daehwi groans.

“Yes you can,” Jinyoung takes his hand, both a reassuring and comforting gesture. “I saw you do it. You saved my life, you saved my entire class’ life, remember that?”

“That was a fluke.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Jinyoung’s voice is surprisingly firm and it grabs Daehwi’s attention, forcing him to truly listen. “Come on.”

Jinyoung pulls them both to their feet. Daehwi doesn’t understand what they’re doing but they’re standing now, looking at each other as the rest of the room pays them no attention.

“I believe in you,” you can do this. You’re incredible, Daehwi. You’re probably the most incredible person I’ve ever known. You can do this.”

Then, Jinyoung picks up the ball Jisung had left behind and chucks it at him.

Daehwi sees shimmering blue.

There is a forcefield all around him, strong and shimmering. As Daehwi marvels at it he expects it to shatter into nothingness like all the others, but it holds.

“Okay,” he hears Jinyoung’s voice through the forcefield. “Drop it now.”

Daehwi lets go and the forcefield disappears easily.

He can see Jinyoung clearly now. He’s sporting a bright, proud smile that makes Daehwi run into his arms and hug him.

“I told you you could do it.” Jinyoung laughs.

“Yeah, you did,” Daehwi breathes. “Thank you.”

“Uh, are you guys done? We were gonna head out.”

Daehwi disentangles himself from Jinyoung quickly. He’d kind of forgotten everyone else was still there. Normally, he wouldn’t feel the strange uncomfortableness he does now. But he always felt strangely uncomfortable around the house lately. At least when he was with anyone but Jinyoung.

He misses Woojin.

Things were easy with Woojin here.

But this is Woojin’s  _ fault. _

It’s Woojin and Jihoon’s fault that everything’s wrong.

He wants to be angry. He thinks he can. He’s been angry before, knows how to do it, how to handle it. He doesn’t know how to handle  _ this.  _ He doesn’t know what this is.

It’s too much.

“Hey, you okay?”

Daehwi is pulled out of his thoughts by Jinyoung’s voice. He realises that the other boy is staring down at him softly, worry shining in his eyes, and that they’re alone. Everyone else left while Daehwi was wrapped up in his own mind.

“I—“ Daehwi starts, then trails off. He doesn’t know how to put his thoughts into words, or if he even wants to.

“Come on,” Jinyoung’s smile says he knows exactly what Daehwi is going through. “Let’s go get milkshakes.”

To Daehwi’s surprise, Jinyoung doesn’t take them out the door and to Sunshine. Instead, he leads them to the kitchen and starts pulling out ice cream and Milk like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You know how to make milkshakes?” Daehwi asks, watching him spoon ice cream into the blender he’s never seen used before.

Jinyoung shrugs. “I can make smoothies. It’s basically the same thing, right?”

Daehwi watches as he pours two vanilla milkshakes into mismatched glasses and takes the one offered to him.

“Follow me,” Jinyoung says, taking off before Daehwi can ask where they’re going.

He only realizes where they’re going when Jinyoung pushes open the sliding glass doors that lead to the garden. Daehwi hasn’t been out here in a while, for no real reason other than that he just hasn’t felt like it.

The garden is beautiful, a sprawling expanse of green dotted by wildflowers. There’s also other plants that have been actually put there, rosebushes, fruit trees, and different flowers line the edges of the space. The weather is bordering on chilly, and Daehwi usually prefers the summer heat, but he finds the weather actually helps clear his head a bit.

“Sit down with me,” Jinyoung says, sitting gracefully on the grass by some yellow roses.

“When did you get so bossy?” Daehwi huffs playfully, but he follows and sits across from Jinyoung.

Jinyoung shrugs. “Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”

“Hey!” Daehwi protests with a laugh and shoves Jinyoung’s shoulder lightly.

They both laugh, and for a moment he feels light and carefree but the laughter quickly dies and so does the mood, leaving the air somber.

“I had an idea,” Jinyoung says suddenly. “Look at the flowers.”

Daehwi is puzzled, but does as Jinyoung says. He turns so his line of sight is nothing but yellow and green instead of Jinyoung’s face.

“They’re...pretty?” Daehwi says unsurely.

Jinyoung laughs. “They are, but that’s not the point. I want you to...talk to them.”

“Huh?” Daehwi blinks.

“It’s just a suggestion, you don’t have to. But...I was thinking it might help. You’re not talking to something that will listen to or judge you, but it will allow you to get all your feelings out. It’s something they had me try out in the hospital, since they were worried about how I’d cope with what happened. I talked to this stuffed lion toy they probably got from the lost and found, but...as weird as it was it did kind of help.”

“Reminds me of when I was in therapy,” Daehwi laughs, though it’s more a puff of air than something with any real humour in it. “They had all these little plastic figures and I had to act out situations with them.”

“Did it help?” Jinyoung asks.

“Yeah, I think it did.”

“Maybe this will too, then.”

So Daehwi takes a deep breath and does it. He knows that Jinyoung is still there, but he tunes out the other boys presence and starts to talk. He talks about how heartbroken he was by Woojin and Jihoon, how much it hurts every time his friends don’t speak to him and ignore him when they pass each other in the hallway, he talks about how much he misses them, misses all of them. He doesn’t know how long he talks for, but by the end he’s exhausted and his throat hurts— he doesn’t know if that’s from talking or from the sobs he’s been holding back.

“Did that work?” Jinyoung asks.

He blinks, suddenly being reminded that his friend is sitting next to him even though he’d never completely forgotten. He’d felt alone, like it was just him and the flowers and nothing else in the world. It still feels like that, like it’s just him and Jinyoung and nothing else matters now that he’s let it all out. The world is quiet in this little patch of garden, but for once the silence comforts him instead of digging into his core like it has been.

“Yes,” Daehwi breathes. “Thank you.”

He wonders if that one sentence conveys how much he really means it, how grateful he is for Jinyoung’s place in his life, especially right now. Looking at Jinyoung and the soft, barely there smile on his face, he thinks it does.

“Do you want another milkshake?”

Daehwi laughs. “Yeah, that sounds great. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

“You’ve been lying in bed all day, are you okay?”

“You know I’m not,” Daniel replies, still facing away from him.

Yeah, Seongwoo knows Daniel isn’t okay. He can feel it but he can also see it in the way Daniel hasn’t moved from the cocoon of blankets he woke up in, the way he won’t look at Seongwoo when he talks to him, the way he’s barely talking to him at all.

Seongwoo doesn’t allow his frustration to leak into his voice. “Okay. Do you want to talk about what’s wrong?”

Daniel curls up on himself even more. “No,” he mumbles. “Just leave me alone.”

Seongwoo tries not to let the words hurt him. He doesn’t  _ want  _ to leave Daniel alone, not when he’s like this. He doesn’t want Daniel to push him away. He’s never pushed Seongwoo away, not since they were teenagers anyway. But Seongwoo guesses he has no choice. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

He expects to find the living room abandoned, and at first he thinks it is. It’s only when he goes to sit on the sofa that he realises Jaehwan is already there, a pen in one hand and a bag of candy in the other.

“Hey,” Seongwoo says.

Jaehwan startles, dropping his pen and only just catching his candy. Seongwoo guesses he was too engrossed in the scribbled on bit of paper before him to notice his presence.

“Oh, hey,” Jaehwan says, retrieving his pen and tucking it behind his ear instead of making eye contact.

Seongwoo sits next to him— casual, comfortable, nothing unusual between them.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

Jaehwan hums. “Just working on a song. It’s going nowhere though.”

“Can I hear what you’ve got so far?”

“Fuck off. It’s awful.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

Jaehwan looks at him for a long, strangely intimate moment before sighing and reaching down the side of the sofa to retrieve his guitar.

Seongwoo shifts back, giving Jaehwan more room. He crosses his legs and leans against the air room as Jaehwan strums the chord.

A beautiful melody fills the room. It’s a peaceful tune, yet one filled with hints of sorrow. Seongwoo closes his eyes. He lets the music flow through him and take up any space in his mind, filling the places consumed with hurt and doubt just moments ago. Jaehwan starts to sing, beautiful, perfectly matching and enhancing the vibe the melody itself gives off. He only sings a few bars, then the music cuts off.

Seongwoo opens his eyes. Jaehwan isn’t looking at him, instead, he’s putting his guitar back where he picked it up from.

“It’s beautiful,” Seongwoo says. “Why don’t you like it?”

Jaehwan turns to face him, crossing his legs so they’re like mirror images of each other. Seongwoo can sense the insecurity coming off of him. He wonders why the most important people in his life seem to never be able to sense their own worth.

“I can’t think of any more lyrics.” Jaehwan shrugs. “The ones I have aren’t that good as it is. The melody is the only bit that’s salvageable.”

“Like I said, it’s beautiful,” Seongwoo tries to make his sincerity clear.

Jaehwan looks away from him, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He’s embarrassed. Seongwoo resists the urge to laugh a little.

“Why are you down here, anyway?” Jaehwan changes the subject.

Seongwoo’s slightly lifted mood drops again. He’d genuinely forgotten for a moment why he was here. He’d forgotten that his boyfriend is curled up in bed, not talking, barely functioning as a human.

“Daniel told me to leave. He’s really not in a good place right now. I think everything’s really hurting him right now. He was ignoring it yesterday, looking after Jinyoung, but Jinyoung’s up and walking around and getting his own stuff again already.”

Seongwoo would like to think he knows Daniel pretty well by now— they’ve been together for years, after all. It’s not like he has no idea what’s up with him, but he has no idea how to  _ fix it _ , not unless Daniel gives him an idea, and he’s getting nothing from him.

Jaehwan hums for a moment, looking thoughtful. “I have an idea.”

“Lay it on me.” Seongwoo quirks an eyebrow.

“What time is it right now?”

Seongwoo checks his phone. “Almost eleven pm.”

Jaehwan grins. “Perfect.”

“Kim Jaehwan, what the hell are you planning?”

“Meet me back here in a few minutes. Bring Daniel, obviously.”

Seongwoo puts away his doubts and does what he’s told. It’s a struggle to get Daniel out of bed. Seongwoo pushes and prods, whines and begs, but eventually he sighs and says ‘Jaehwan asked.’ Daniel is quiet for a moment, before mumbling ‘yeah, okay,” and pushes himself up slowly.

They slowly make their way to the living room— Daniel is sluggish, and Seongwoo stops and waits for him. When they eventually get there, Jaehwan is standing, leaning against the back of the sofa, a bag in his hands. He gives them both an appraising look before saying “follow me.” and heading off again.

He leads them to the basement, or more accurately, the pool. The room is borderline dark, the lights only giving off a soft, almost celestial glow.

“What exactly are we doing here?” Seongwoo asks. “And why all the secrecy? Was all that drama really necessary when you weren’t even taking us outside our own house?”

Jaehwan doesn’t respond to him, instead, he pulls a bottle of vodka out of his bag and sits on the floor to pour it into three shot glasses.

“Drink this.” He hands one to each of them.

“..I’m not sure this is a good—” Seongwoo starts as Daniel downs the shot.

“Got any more?” Daniel asks.

Seongwoo sighs and drinks his too. He never was good at being the responsible one.

And Kim Jaehwan has never been a good influence on that.

 

_ “....Did I miss something?” Seongwoo walked through the door and immediately paused. _

_ Daniel was sitting on their sofa with some guy Seongwoo was pretty sure he’d never seen before. That would be unusual enough...but the guy was...singing to him. There was some random guy on their sofa singing to his boyfriend. He definitely feels like he missed something. _

_ “Oh. Hey babe.” Daniel turned to him with a smile as the music cut off. “This is Jaehwan. I told you about him, remember?” _

_ Ah. Seongwoo remembered now. Jisung’s old partner who’d showed up on their dining table with ice cold seeping into his chest. He was like them, he remembered, and Daniel had said he might come around. _

_ “Hey,” Seongwoo ventured. He entered the room and collapsed on the sofa next to Daniel, inadvertently shoving Jaehwan and his guitar over a bit. He slung his arm over Daniel and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. _

_ “Hey,” Jaehwan said...and oh. _

_ The first thing he noticed was jealousy. _

_ Jaehwan was jealous. He was jealous of his arm around Daniel and his lips on Daniel’s skin. Well, Seongwoo wasn’t going to judge him for it. He really couldn’t blame him. _

_ “Seongwoo, this is Jaehwan. Jaehwan, this is Seongwoo.” Daniel introduced them, indifferent to Jaehwan’s feelings and Seongwoo’s knowledge. It was kind of cute. _

_ Seongwoo held his hand out for Jaehwan to shake. Jaehwan took it and smiled at him, wide even if it was a little forced. _

_ The second thing he noticed, in the back of his mind, was that Jaehwan was a pretty attractive guy. _

_ Four hours later, they were getting shots at the bar. It was weird, being at the bar he worked at without actually being behind it, but Jaehwan had never been here before and seeing him in this element was just so fun. _

_ “What are we drinking again?” Jaehwan asked him over the pounding music. _

_ “I...don’t remember.” Seongwoo laughed, wild, uproarious. _

_ Daniel said something then, maybe filling Jaehwan in on the name of the dusky liquid filling their glasses, maybe not. It was hard to hear and Seongwoo was far from focused. _

_ “Dance with me,” Seongwoo said. _

_ Jaehwan spluttered. “What, me? I don’t uhhh…” Seongwoo didn’t let him finish. He grabbed his hand and pulled him on to the light up floor. When they found a space, instead of letting go of Jaehwan’s hand he used it to pull the other man closer to him until they were practically chest to chest and slipped the other around his waist. _

_ “Dancing’s easy,” Seongwoo told him. “You just have to...feel it.” _

_ Jaehwan’s stiff, like a board of wood surrounded by the waving sea of bodies. After a while, a few thumping songs and Seongwoo’s gently guiding hand, he starts to loosen up. _

_ They dance for a while, and the only way Seongwoo can describe it is intense. He didn’t know how he felt, he didn’t even really know how Jaehwan felt, all he knew was whatever it was they were feeling, it was a lot. _

_ He found himself staring down at Jaehwan’s eyes, he could feel his breath against his lips. Intense. What was he doing? He didn’t know. _

_ The moment broke when Jaehwan burst into laughter, a loud, ringing sound right by Seongwoo’s ear. _

_ “I want another drink,” he said. _

_ “Let’s go,” Seongwoo answered, a smile hovering on his lips. _

_ Daniel was still by the bar. He smiled when he saw Seongwoo and looped his arms around Seongwoo’s shoulders and the planted a messy kiss on Seongwoo’s lips. _

_ It’s a lot. Seongwoo’s body is buzzing, alight with the night and everything that happened in it. When Daniel pulled away Seongwoo felt like his eyes were glazed and he chased his boyfriend's lips, but they found glass instead. _

_ “Drink,” Jaehwan said, holding the glass to his lips. _

_ Seongwoo didn’t complain. He remembered drinking that, and then another glass, and then the next thing he remembers is a few hours later, suddenly no longer at the bar but outside at the top of a long, long flight of concrete stairs. _

_ “Do you think I could slide down the banister to the bottom?” He asked, staring down the flight of stairs, squinting due to his fuzzy eyesight. _

_ “No. No way.” Daniel shook his head. _

_ “Do it.” Jaehwan laughed. _

_ Drunk Seongwoo had very selective hearing. “I’m going to do it.” _

_ “Please, do not,” Daniel whined. _

_ “Do it,” Jaehwan said again. “It’ll be awesome.” _

_ Maybe if it was just him and Daniel on this slightly chilly, very drunken night he would have actually listened to his boyfriend and done nothing irresponsible, albeit with some whining. But it wasn’t just him and Daniel, and the alcohol and Jaehwan cheering him on beat out Daniel’s complaints. _

_ Seongwoo, unsurprisingly, tumbled off the banister halfway down in a very painful and very embarrassing manner. Luckily, he barely felt it, but he knew in the back of what was left of his logical mind that it was actually a pretty bad fall. Apparently, Daniel knew that too, because he rushed to his side and knelt down next to him. _

_ “You’re an idiot,” He muttered fondly. _

_ As Daniel checked him over and gently healed any damage from the fall, Jaehwan finally reached them as well, having took longer due to his drunken steps. _

_ “That was awesome” He half-yelled, half-laughed. _

_ Seongwoo couldn’t help but not regret it, even though he knew it was stupid. _

_ It made Jaehwan laugh _

 

Seongwoo wonders if his tolerance has lowered. He wonders if he’s even drunk. All he knows is that at some point they made their way into the pool, fully clothed because Jaehwan hadn’t told them to bring swimming trunks with them or brought his own.

He can’t remember what they’re talking about— something silly, probably, something insignificant and meaningless judging by the smiles on their faces and the laughter trickling from their lips, but also so, so important for the same reason.

Seongwoo smiles because although he’s not in on the joke he’s happy to see them happy and feel that radiating off them.

“What are we laughing about?” He asks.

Jaehwan turns to look at him with sparkling eyes while Daniel muffles a new bout of giggles in his arm. Jaehwan’s hair is wet from the water, droplets as blue and bright as gems in the dim light drip onto his wide, bare shoulders.

Seongwoo shouldn’t stare. Normally, he wouldn’t, but his mids a little fuzzy with alcohol and happiness.

“That dumb look you get on your face when you zone out.” Jaehwan laughs.

“Hey!” Seongwoo complains. He splashes Jaehwan with water and sends the three of them into another burst of giggles.

 

* * *

__

“I’m going to be there, Taehyun. I promise.”

“You don’t have to! We can reschedule or— “

Sungwoon groans. “Please. Please just shut up.” He snaps before he can help it.

He presses his phone between his ear and his shoulder and maneuvers to open the bottle of painkillers again. He’s taken to keeping them on his bedside table. He doesn’t know why— his headache had been getting worse over the days, and the painkillers don’t even touch it. But at least if he takes them he feels like he’s trying to do something.

“So are you going to tell my friends to shut up if they get too loud? Because I’m warning you now they are very loud people. You shouldn’t do this. You should go see a doctor, Sungwoon.”

Sungwoon sighs quietly. Taehyun knows about the headache he’s been suffering through for the past few days. They both know that they’ve been making plans for them to go out with Taehyun’s friends for months now, but have always had to cancel for some reason or another. Sungwoon has met Taehyun’s friends, technically, but they haven’t hung out properly. He knows that Taehyun loves his friends a lot and it means a lot to him that they like Sungwoon and Sungwoon likes them. That’s why he’s not going to cancel tonight, no matter how much his head throbs and no matter how much Taehyun tells him it’s okay to back out if he doesn’t feel up to it.

“I’ll be there, okay? And I’ll be on my best behaviour. Just let me know what time you’re picking me up.”

Taehyun sighs but says “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Great. See you then.” Sungwoon hangs up before his boyfriend can protest anymore.

A quick look at his phone tells him that it's still about an hour until seven p.m. If it was up to him, he’d pass this hour with a long, painkiller induced nap. But he knows if he rests his head and falls asleep he won’t be waking up for a long time, so he bids his bed goodbye and starts going through his clothes instead.

He knew where they were going. Daydreamer is a cosy restaurant/bar not even a five minute drive from campus. He’s never been inside. He spent his years at college before Taehyun holed up in the library or at home, but he  _ does  _ know the place.

That doesn’t make picking an outfit any easier.

If it was just going to be him and Taehyun then he’d happily show up in sweats or something equally as unflattering, but this is Taehyun’s friends, and for whatever reason it’s about as stressful as meeting his parents— something Sungwoon has never done and kind of hopes Taehyun doesn’t suggest for at least another year,

After twenty minutes of making a mess of his room, he settles on a pair of dark wash jeans, a white turtleneck and brown jacket. It’s not too fancy and not too casual, it’s perfect.

...And now he still has forty minutes to kill. Normally he would have spent this time down in the living room, joining in with whatever the others were talking about or catching the middle of the movie they were watching, but that’s not an option anymore. The living room is a ghost town, devoid of any life since none of them can claim it as their own space. He’d be even more lost what to do there than he is here.

He guesses his paper could use a third proofread. It never hurts.

 

He wakes up to the blaring of a car horn and a keyboard digging into his face. It takes him a moment to realise that he fell asleep while editing his paper. It takes him another to realise that the car horn must belong to Taehyun. He jolts up and makes sure he has all his stuff. He groans when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and groans when he sees that the keyboard pressed ugly red lines into his face and then flinches at his own voice.

Jesus, did his headache get worse in his sleep?

Taehyun is leaning against the driver’s side door when he walks outside. Night is already falling and it’s like heaven to Sungwoon’s sore eyes. Taehyun’s smile is bright, but it doesn’t hurt like the light, instead, it eases his aches more than the painkillers ever managed.

“Hey,” Taehyun wraps his arms around Sungwoon when he approaches and presses his lips to his.

It’s the first time he’s felt someone close to him since the day they brought Jinyoung back from the hospital and he drinks it in like a dying man in need of water. He whines when they part and tries to lean back in but Taehyun just laughs softly against his lips.

“Are you ready?” He asks.

Sungwoon tries to muster a smile. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Taehyun rambles on about his friends in the car, reassurances about how they’re nice if a little overwhelming at first and if Sungwoon needs a break then they can step outside for a minute. Sungwoon doesn’t know if he’s doing this for his benefit or his own and if he’s honest he mostly tunes it out.

In fact, he tunes everything out to the point that he doesn’t even realise when they arrive. Taehyun has to wave his hand in front of Sungwoon’s face to get his attention and Sungwoon flushes a little with embarrassment at being caught.

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” Taehyun is, thankfully, laughing.

“No, I’m sorry.”

“Trust me to fall for a dumbass.” Taehyun rolls his eyes.

“Hey! Which one of us is the academic scholarship student?!”

“Just because you could probably be a member of Mensa doesn’t mean you’re not a dumbass.”

Sungwoon glares at his boyfriend until he breaks into a smile and says “You ready to go in?”

“As soon as my gentlemanly boyfriend opens my door.”

The restaurant thankfully isn’t too loud. At least, when they enter it isn’t. As they approach the table Taehyun leads them to, the quiet din rises to something louder and more jovial. Sungwoon tries not to flinch as they reach the source of the sound, which is four boys sitting in a booth. They quiet down when Taehyun and Sungwoon approach, looking at them with interest.

“Guys,” Taehyun starts. “This is Sungwoon. Sungwoon, this is the guys.”

Sungwoon knows who “the guys” are. There’s Longguo, sipping at a coke. Hyunbin, squeezed in uncomfortably due to his long legs, then there’s Kenta and Donghan, the latter leaning his head on the former's shoulder, both apparently having already had a few drinks judging by their flushed cheeks and giggles.

“It’s nice to properly meet you,” Hyunbin smiles.

“You too,” Sungwoon replies.

They slip into the booth and Sungwoon is surprised to find himself relaxing. Taehyun’s friends are welcoming, and they don’t have to worry about running out of things to talk about when there’s endless embarrassing stories about Taehyun to swap. They order food, and then drinks, and it all seems to be going well. Sungwoon is glad he didn’t give into Taehyun’s nagging and his own weaknesses and stay at home.

“Okay so and then,” Kenta leans across the table to point a finger at Hyunbin, who starts talking over him. “No, no, no! He does  _ not  _ need to hear this bit, Kenta.”

Suddenly everyone is talking over each other. It’s fine, it’s fun...until it isn't. The headache Sungwoon had almost forgotten about comes back fullforce. It’s not an ache anymore; it’s sudden agony. His head feels like it’s splitting open, he’s struggling to breathe, and his stomach is churning.

“I have to go,” Sungwoon breathes, but he doesn’t check to see if anyone even heard him over their conversation.

His vision swims as he tries to make his way out of the restaurant. He crashes into a table and almost doesn’t get up again, but he does because even away from Taehyun and his friends it’s too loud and too crowded here and he needs to get out. Eventually, he doesn’t know how long it takes, but eventually, he finds the door to the exit.

He walks just far enough to be out of the way of the doors before collapsing against the wall of the restaurant. The concrete ground is cold, as is the night air he desperately inhales. He feels like something is banging in the back of his head, trying to destroy his skull. He groans lowly in his throat. The last thing he thinks is that this is not a normal headache, and then there’s one last bang and it’s like a dam in his head crashes open, images and thoughts and knowledge spilling into his mind.

Memories, what they are is memories. His real memories.

They don’t look different, but they feel it. They’re the exact same things happening, but he’s seeing them differently. Where he once saw Woojin’s presence and actions as suspicious, as traitorous, he now sees him differently. He sees him as he knows he once did, before...before something changed. He sees the boy that helped Jisung escape at risk to himself, who didn’t hesitate to help Jinyoung and Daehwi, who rushed back to Jinyoung’s hospital room before the rest of them to see if he was back. Jihoon, who was obsessed with Woojin, who kept a watchful eye on Woojin but not because he was with him but because he was once the only one of them who didn’t trust him.

The truth hurts. Sungwoon has always known this. But it’s never hurt as much as this.

What the fuck did they do?

When the memories stop so does the ache, but Sungwoon doesn’t feel any better. He’s sick to his stomach. Sweat is dripping down his face and he’s impossibly drained. He wants to curl up right here on this sidewalk and cry himself to sleep. But he can’t do that.

He gets to his feet even though his legs feel like jelly and he almost trips before he’s steady.

He needs to get home. He needs to explain that everything they thought they knew isn’t real. He needs to explain that they have just made the biggest mistake of their lives, and they need to try and fix it...if they even can.

 

* * *

Jisung barely glances up from his work when the door opens. He doesn’t know who’s out or who’s at home— to know these things would require people telling him them, and telling him them would require them talking. They hadn’t done that in a while.

He looks up again, in absolute shock, when the person who had just come through the door comes straight into the study and says “Jisung, there you are. We need to talk.”

Sungwoon looks like death. He’s always been pale but Jisung has never seen him looking sickly like this. There’s sweat leaving his hair damp on his forehead and he’s hunched over, struggling for breath.

“Sungwoon?” He makes his way over to his friend immediately, leaning the back of his palm on the other’s forehead. He’s burning. “Sit down.”

“There’s no time for that,” Sungwoon protests. “You need to call everyone down here. We need to talk.”

“What’s going on, Sungwoon? What happened?” Jisung doesn’t think that he’s ever seen the other man like this. He’s never been the type to freak out over small things. Whatever has him shaken to his core like this, it must be something big.

“We...we fucked up. We fucked up so badly, Jisung. I’ll explain everything, but you need to get everyone down here.”

So Jisung does. He calls everyone down to the living room. He’s grateful that they still listen to him. He was half-expecting them not to, but thankfully they do without complaint, though with little enthusiasm too. When they’re all gathered in the living room there’s an air of awkwardness and half of them are still standing, angles towards the door like they can’t wait to just leave and be alone again.

“Sungwoon, talk.” It comes out as more of an order than Jisung intends it to. He runs his hand over his face and adds a stressed “Please.”

“Okay, Okay…” Sungwoon takes a deep breath, staring at the floor. “What if I told you...your memories are wrong?”

There’s silence for a moment, and then Jaehwan lets out a flat “I’m sorry...but what?”

Jisung agrees.

Sungwoon keeps talking. He talks about his headaches, about how it had all reached a peak in a restaurant parking lot. He tells them that somehow, something had happened that had changed their opinions, that they’d been seeing things wrong this whole time. Jisung wants to say it’s ridiculous, that that's not something that could just happen, but as Sungwoon keeps talking he feels an ache growing his head too.

Then, a dam opens, a dam opens like he suddenly remembers it doing once before. But this time, it doesn’t mend itself. The truth floods out into his mind, horrible and destructive, flooding his emotions and everything he thought that he knew.

“What have we done?” Jisung whispers, more to himself than anyone else.

Sometimes he feels like he actually has lived a long time, no matter how much he’ll insist he’s not old. He’s experienced a lot, he’s known a lot of people, good and bad, and he’d like to think that everything he’s lived through has given him some kind of wisdom.

Right now, he feels like he’s too young for all of this. If he was older, if he was wiser, maybe he wouldn’t have made a mistake like this. He’s made mistakes before sure, but this, right here, is unquestionably the biggest mistake of his life. Maybe if he was older, if he really was wise, he wouldn’t have thrown two people who needed him out on the street.

All his life, he’d wanted nothing but to help people, but did he really just make their lives worse? Was he part of the problem, excusing his actions with some fake nobility that he didn’t really have?

“I don’t know.” Jisung doesn’t hear who says it, but the horrified tone of voice and the expression on everyone's faces when he looks up makes him realise that he’s not the only one having this moment.

They’ve all realised. What Sungwoon told them has broken past their fake ideas and shown them the way it really is.

And they’re all horrified by it.

“The things we did...the things I said...oh my god,” Minhyun breathes.

“How could we think like that? They were our friends, they were our family…”

“We just...threw them out. We haven’t seen them or heard from them, are they even okay out there?”

Jisung half listens to what everyone has to say until it falls silent again. He wonders why it’s so quiet, why they aren’t saying anything, doing anything. Then he realises it’s because he isn’t. Like it or not,  _ deserve  _ it or not, he’s the leader.

And he has to lead them, no matter how much he doesn’t think he can.

“First things first,” He says, hoping he sounds a lot more put together than he feels. “We find them. We find Woojin and Jihoon. We make sure that they’re safe and they’re okay, and we try and bring them home.”

“Would they even want to come home? After everything?” Daehwi asks. Jisung can hear the tears in his voice and he can’t help but to reach out and pull him into a hug. He thinks this is the first time he’s touched someone in days, but Daehwi doesn’t pull away, instead he leans into Jisung and lets the tears he’d been holding back fall.

“I don’t know. We’ll just have to hope,” he whispers into Daehwi’s hair.

“You said ‘first things first’,” Seongwoo speaks up. “What’s second?”

“This didn't just happen. People don't just wake up one day and completely change their minds about their closest friends. Something did this to us. There’s something out there that made us turn on the people we loved. We’re going to find out what.”

It’s a lot to take in. It’s a lot for Jisung to take in, and he knows it’s not going to be any easier for the rest of them. He doesn’t know what he expects, but what he gets is a group of boys looking at him with determination burning in their eyes and saying “let’s do it” and he knows it’s what he should have expected all along. He may be their leader, but it’s their strength that keeps him going.

Doing it is easier said than done. They really haven’t heard a word from Woojin or Jihoon this whole time, and they  _ have  _ been looking— if for all the wrong reasons. But there’s been nothing. They have no clue where either of them are, how they’re doing, ( _ if they’re even alive, and maybe that’s dramatic but there’s so much Jisung doesn’t understand right now and somehow, something had already targeted them when it took Woojin and Jihoon away) _

The nine of them gather in a circle on the living room floor, paper and pens and maps littering the centre.

Jisung knows a thing or two about missing people, of course. He’s a police officer, and he’s helped out on a missing person’s case or two, he’s spent the last year helping Minhyun.

But a little bit of knowledge doesn’t mean he can just find them. There’s no witnesses for kids who haven’t even been reported missing, there’s no bad person to track down and question  _ (because they’re right here) _ , no friends and family either  _ (because they’re right here). _

Woojin...what do they even know about Woojin? He lived at the mansion before they met him, but he wouldn’t go back there, right? But where else would he go? Where was he before the mansion? They need to find out more about him. It feels like an invasion of his privacy, but it’s necessary, maybe tomorrow he can go down to the police station and-

The police station.

_ Hyungseob. _

The truth about that situation had been hidden behind the stronger, more personal memories of Woojin and Jihoon, but he realises that he remembers, he remembers that he remembers. He was at the station and he realised, for a brief moment, that the things he thought and the way he acted didn’t make any sense.

Something had twisted what he’d thought of Hyungseob, just like it had with Woojin and Jihoon.

It had twisted his coworker's thoughts too. It had manipulated them all until they’d put an innocent kid in jail to await trial.

He feels so sick that he doesn’t want to think about. He doesn’t want to think about how much he’s messed up, he doesn’t want to think about how something has been ruining their lives. He’ll deal with one thing first and another thing second. He can’t do anything about Hyungseob until the morning anyway.

“This is impossible. We have no idea where he could be,” Daehwi sighs, flopping onto the floor.

Jisung can hear the murmurs of agreement.

“We can’t lose hope, not so early,” he says. “Okay...let's forget about Woojin for a moment. Where do you think Jihoon could have gone?”

It both is and isn’t an easier question. It’s easier because they’ve known Jihoon longer, and in a lot of ways better. It’s harder because Jihoon has always been a bit of an enigma. Jisung knows everything about him, from the moment he was born, but it doesn’t make what he’ll do much easier to predict.

He knows that Jihoon never had a home. When they’d met he’d been a kid wandering the streets for a long time, surviving purely off being smart and resourceful and a little bit of help from his powers. He hung out a lot of places back then, every time Jisung tried to find him— and he didn’t succeed after— he’d find him somewhere different, somewhere Jisung had never been before but acting like he belonged there.

They spend hours sitting and talking until it’s well into the early morning. They trade ideas and mark places on the map and make plans, by the end they have...nothing great, but something workable. It’s enough to actually reignite the fires of hope that were dead at the beginning of the evening. They’re going to find them, Jisung assures everyone before they bring out the blankets and pillows to make one big bed on the floor.

They’re going to find them, he assures them and assures himself.

If they actually want to come back home is another question, but they’ll worry about that later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I know it has...been a while. I've been busy with school, life, etc, all my usual excuses.  
> I'd like to say the next chapter will be out faster, and I will try, but my exams start next month and I need to use all two of my brain cells to cram revision so I'm sorry if it isn't.
> 
> Also, thank you so much to everyone who has read, kudosed and commented on this fic. It really means a lot to me and I probably would have given up on this a long time ago if it wasn't for how kind you all are.


	12. Chapter 12

“I got two packets of Sushi, some instant ramen, and bread,” Jihoon announces as he closes the door behind him and drops the bags on the floor.

Woojin instantly scrambles for the bags and Jihoon has to say “Uh-uh, the sushi is for dinner. You can have toast, ramen if you’re  _ really _ hungry.”

Woojin— there is no better word for it— pouts. Jihoon doesn’t let his stance crumble, even though there is a part of him that’s strangely affected by the expression.

“How am I supposed to have toast  _ or _ ramen when we have no electricity?” Woojin grumbles.

Jihoon pulls out a piece of plastic from his pocket and holds it out for the other boy to see. “I also topped up the electricity. Thankfully I left the meter key here when I left and no one has been here since.”

Woojin smiles and snatches a packet of spicy chicken ramen from the bag. He starts filling a pot with some of the bottled water Jihoon had brought back the other day before Jihoon can say anything more.

“How did you know about this place anyway?” Woojin asks, waiting for the water to boil. “I meant to ask before, but it kind of slipped my mind with….everything.”

Jihoon glances up at him. He’s sat on the sofa, while Woojin is standing in the little kitchenette. In a way, there’s a lot of space between them, but at the same time there’s not because this is a tiny apartment and a small room, considering there’s both a living room and kitchen squeezed in here. It would barely take a few steps for Jihoon to walk over to Woojin and harshly tell him to mind his own business. He knows he would have, once. He isn’t entirely sure when that changed, or why, he just knows the possibility only crosses his mind as just that— something possible...but not probable.

“I was homeless,” Jihoon starts. There’s no softening the blow— that’s the word for it, though it’s an often misunderstood one. Not every homeless person lives on the streets, though Jihoon himself did most of the time. Some homeless people don’t have a permanent residence but have friends and family nice enough to let them rest their heads at their’s until they get back on their feet. Depending on how you look at the word, someone could own and live in the same house all their life and they still wouldn’t have a  _ home _ — it’s how Jihoon looks at it because despite, or maybe even because of, the fact he was once homeless, when he found a home it wasn’t a place but a group of people.

That’s why, even though he’s currently squatting in the same abandoned apartment he’d once left behind, he doesn’t consider himself homeless again— because he knows one day he’ll be able to go home again, because...because he has a piece of home with him.

“I was homeless for well, as long as I can remember, really. Sometimes I stayed on the streets, or in public parking lots. If I was lucky, I could afford a motel or stay in a shelter for a while. At some point, I found this place. It’s been abandoned for a while, probably at least years before I found it. I always expected it to get put back on the market or torn down, so I never let myself get too comfortable, but it stayed standing somehow. I was squatting here when I finally agreed to live with Jisung. He might be the only person who even knows this place exists other than me and you.”

“Oh, wow,” Woojin breathes. The water is starting to bubble behind him, and Jihoon finds himself tuning into that instead of his voice. Everyone at home knows his story, but telling it like this, telling it to Woojin, makes him feel stripped bare to the rawest layers of skin. He doesn’t know what he’s afraid of, but he knows he is suddenly, so, so afraid.

He’s innately aware that Woojin is currently moving towards him, but he doesn’t show it. He stares straight ahead at the wall until Woojin is kneeling in front of him and slowly, timidly reaches out to cup Jihoon’s cheek in his palm. Jihoon inhales a sharp breath at the contact that he hasn’t been expecting and finally meets Woojin’s eyes.

They have never been this close before, not without an undertone of violence to their movements— the times they’ve sparred, the time Jihoon shoved Woojin into a wall that he finds himself regretting in this moment— but never like this. Never warm, never reassuring, never  _ soft. _

“We’re going to fix this, Jihoon.” Woojin’s voice is steady, the polar opposite to how Jihoon feels. “We’re going to go home, I swear to you. It’s all going to be okay, just...don’t cry, please.”

It’s only then that Jihoon realises that there are tears dripping down his cheeks. He wipes one away, just to check that they’re real, and wonders when the last time he cried in front of someone was. Whenever it was, he can’t remember it. Of all people, it ends up being in front of Park Woojin. Not long ago, he wouldn’t have even thought that was possible, but lately it seems like everything unexpected that could happen is happening and Jihoon has no control over any of it.

“Do you want some ramen?” Woojin asks.

Jihoon nods. “S-sure.”

Woojin finally takes his hand off of Jihoon’s face, and Jihoon ignores the strange feeling forming in his chest at the loss. He ends up staring at nothing, unsure if his mind is empty of thoughts for the first time or if there’s so many he can’t even register and sort through them. He swears he isn’t there for long, but soon enough Woojin is coming back with two steaming bowls of noodles. He hands one to Jihoon then sits on the floor and starts piling noodles into his mouth without a word or any care for how hot they are.

Jihoon sets his aside, not so hungry that he’s not willing to let them cool first. In fact, he’s not really hungry at all, but he’s not going to let food go to waste.

“I think we should talk about what we know, put everything together and see what it adds up to,” he says.

Even though it’s been a few days, they’re nowhere close to figuring anything out. They had to get food, and toiletries, and find the closest place that would let them take a shower. Woojin hadn’t had proper rest in a while so after that he’d practically slept their first full day away. Figuring out what had happened is the most important thing, but first, they’d had to make sure they could instead of being starving, exhausted, and useless because of it.

At first, Jihoon had been anxious to start, but now he’s glad they waited. At least it gives them something to talk about instead of falling into awkwardness after his crying spell.

Woojin looks up at him, wide-eyed, still chewing too many noodles. He finally swallows them, a little too fast, and says “Yeah, that’s a good idea, let’s do it.”

They don’t have paper but they have an old, broken pen and kitchen towels. It’s all they really need, anyway, because the fact is that they don’t know much. They have no leads, only cracked hearts and the knowledge in their chests that something is wrong, wrong, wrong.

Jihoon hates feeling clueless, he hates feeling like he’s not in control, and as the time passes and they get nowhere that feeling only increases tenfold, but he’ll work past it, for them, for himself, for the boy next to him.

 

* * *

Jaehwan collapses onto the sofa gracelessly, whining as he does so. He’s walked almost everywhere for most of his life, but even he is tired. He can’t imagine how people like Seongwoo and Daniel must feel, with one of them driving everywhere and the other being driven.

They’ve been looking for Jihoon and Woojin all morning. They’d decided to split up, to cover more ground, or whatever Jisung said— Jaehwan could see his point, but it also made the already physically tiring search emotionally exhausting too, having to do it alone with nothing but your thoughts and worries in your mind. They had made an agreement that if they found anything, they’d call, and if not they’d meet up at the house around noon to reconvene.

The clock is about to strike twelve, and Jaehwan’s phone hasn’t buzzed once.

He’s the first one back, but his solitude doesn’t last for long. Slowly, they all come trickling in, looking run down in every way a person can be. If the last few days were an angry, tumultuous affair, then this is just a sad one.

“We can’t lose hope,” Jisung says. “It’s only been one morning.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Jaehwan says. “But where is there left to look? Didn’t we already search everywhere?”

“Not everywhere.” Jisung shakes his head. “There’s still one more place. If that’s a bust, then we’ll start from scratch.”

Guanlin leans in from where he was slumped on the floor, curiosity pushing him forward.

“I could swear you sent us to every place on the list.”

“I did. I didn’t put this place on the list because...well, because I almost forgot about it. I don’t know how,” he chuckles, happy and sad all at once. “I don’t know how because it’s an important place, at least to me, but I was only there for a moment. Sometimes...sometimes I want to forget. I want to forget how I met each and every one of you, because none of them are pretty moments. But I can’t, not really, because they’re also the best moments of my life.”

Jisung’s voice is choked and there are tears blooming in his eyes. It’s not an unusual sight, they’ve all cried at some point, and even though Jisung tries not to do it in front of them so they won’t worry, they all know that he’s easily emotional. Still, even if it’s not unusual, it’s never nice, and they all rush to comfort him, grabbing him in a hug and whispering soothing words.

“I’m okay,” he says eventually, gently pushing them away. “I’m okay,” he repeats again, taking a deep breath.

A pause, and then “I think maybe we need a break. Obviously finding them is our top priority right now, but we need to look after ourselves too and we haven’t done that all morning— eat, nap, do whatever you want. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

A few of the kids look like they want to argue, but the don’t because they know Jisung is right. They’re all running on anxiety and adrenaline, not a decent amount of sleep and a good meal. If they don’t take a break now they’ll probably break down later.

Jaehwan ends up in the kitchen. He’d considered sleeping, but the rumbling of his stomach outweighs his fatigue right now.

He finds Minhyun there, sat at the breakfast bar, swirling a spoon in his cup of tea without taking a sip. He looks up when Jaehwan comes in and smiles, but it’s a hollow facsimile, like Minhyun isn’t truly there.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” Jaehwan asks, pulling the bread out from the cupboard.

“I don’t think I can.” His shoulders heave as he talks, as if the simple act of speaking is a huge weight to lift.

Jaehwan walks over to him, leaving his bread under the watchful eye of the toasters timer.

“You feel bad, huh?” He asks, taking the seat across from him.

Minhyun laughs silently, shoulders rising and falling again.

“I feel more than bad. The things I said to them, the things I did. I just...threw them out on the street. What if…”

Minhyun doesn’t finish his sentence, but Jaehwan guesses it would have been something like ‘what if they’re not okay’ or ‘what if they never come home’ They’ve all had thoughts like these since last night, Jaehwan is pretty sure— maybe some of them have even had them before then, slipping through the cracks of their manipulated minds before Sungwoon crashed those walls down.

Still, there’s something...heavier about the way Minhyun says it that makes Jaehwan think there’s something more to this than the dark parts of all their thoughts.

“Who’s Jonghyun?” He asks. His tone is careful, even if the question is not. “You never did tell us. “

Minhyun shakes his head. “It’s not like I got the chance. None of us were speaking.”

“We’re speaking now.”

Minhyun smiles sadly. “Not all of us. But...when Jihoon and Woojin come home...I promise.”

Jaehwan slides his second piece of toast over to Minhyun, but the other man doesn’t eat it before he leaves the kitchen.

In the silence of the kitchen, the exhaustion almost knocks him off his feet. He drops what’s left of his toast on the plate and rests his head on the counter. He’d love to sleep, but he’s not willing to go home. Going home means missing out on what’s happening here, and if there’s any news he wants to be there to hear it.

Still, apparently he’s even more worn out than he thought, because next thing he knows his shoulder is being nudged and he’s looking at Daniel’s face with bleary eyes.

He’s a little blurry around the edges, and Jaehwan feels just the same. He forgets where he is, and why, for a moment, until it all comes rushing back to him with a few simple words from Daniel’s lips “We’re ready to go.”

They’re ready to go— to go to the last place they think they might find their friends. Jaehwan’s sleepy heartbeat picks up in his chest, reminding him of the importance of this.

He doesn’t want to think of what will happen if they don’t find them wherever they’re going. It can’t be the end, right?

There can’t  _ be  _ a fucking end. Not of them.

“Jaehwan?” Daniel prompts. “Are you ready?”

Jaehwan shakes himself out of his thoughts, realising he’s just been sitting there looking stupid, still half slumped over the breakfast bar.

He pushes himself up to his feet and shakes the lethargy out of his bones.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He shrugs.

 

 

* * *

 

“I think we should take a break.”

“A break?” Jihoon is sat at the table, which is completely covered with scraps of towel and their unwashed bowls. His hair is a mess from the amount of times he’s ran his fingers through it and the look in his eyes is almost wild.

Woojin has never seen him look like this, not even in his worst moments.

“How am I supposed to take a break when we’ve gotten nowhere?” He continues.

“That’s exactly why you should. Your brain isn’t going to work without rest,” Woojin stresses.

Jihoon looks like he wants to argue and for a moment Woojin wonders if this is going to end in a fight. In a split second Woojin sees their entire relationship flash before his eyes in vivid motion picture. He sees a stranger staring at him with mystery in his eyes, compelling Woojin’s attention even as he walks away. He sees a fight disguised as friendly combat, this enigmatic kid throwing punches for all his worth, a laugh in a swimming pool, a quiet conversation in the corner of a hospital room, the words ‘I trust you’ that have been repeating in his mind like the film reel was stuck and kept repeating and repeating until the screen of his mind went black.

Woojin doesn’t want to undo all the progress they’ve made.

Maybe in that split second Jihoon realises that too, because he lets out a deep breath and his body deflates with it.

“Fine, we’ll take a break,” he concedes, still reluctant, but it’s something.

Woojin has never seen him like this. He’s never seen Jihoon look anything but put together, like he holds almost all the secrets of the universe and will figure out the rest any second. He’s enigmatic, he’s compelling, he’s an incredible thing somehow held in a human body.

Now, he is something wholly, undeniably human. More than that, he is a teenage boy. He’s a boy who’s been through hell since the moment he was born and came out the other side, a little damaged, stressed and scared, just like him.

It’s both painful and incredible to watch— like a supernova, a star burning bright but only because it’s dying.

Woojin edges closer to him, takes his hand, smiles. “I told you we’ll sort this out. Don’t you trust me?”

Their eyes meet, lock on to each other like they’re the only things in the universe. Woojin doesn’t see Jihoon say it, but he hears it— the  _ yes  _ choked with emotion, and what he does see is the bare, raw  _ openness  _ in his eyes.

Woojin doesn’t mean for it to happen, but he leans in before he can stop himself.

Kissing him feels like an adrenaline rush. It feels like Woojin is running faster than he ever has before. Jihoon’s lips set off a spark all throughout his body, setting every inch of him alight. He wonders if it’s the result of all the raw, inconceivable power Jihoon holds inside him as a boy who can manipulate reality, or if it’s just something inherently him, inherently  _ human _ , just Park Jihoon and Park Woojin, their feelings colliding to make something that is powerful all on its own.

They pull apart and Woojin isn’t sure if eons or seconds have passed. He doesn’t know anything but warm lips chapped from worry pressing against his own.

He barely has time to catch his breath. The last thing he sees is Jihoon reaching up to trace his own lips before they’re both distracted by the sound of footsteps thundering towards the door.

He instinctively pushes Jihoon behind him, and Jihoon instinctively pushes himself back to where he was with a glare. The footsteps are getting louder now, shaking the poorly built apartment with their weight. Woojin doesn’t know how many of them there are, but he knows there’s a lot. Too many to fight off on his own, no doubt, probably too many for both of them unless Jihoon gives in, uses his power and gets lucky doing it.

“What do we do?” Woojin asks, hushed and urgent.

Jihoon takes a deep breath. “We survive.”

Woojin doesn’t get a chance to say anything more. The footsteps cease and then there’s a loud, almost urgent knock on the door. Woojin freezes, insides turning to ice with fear.

“Jihoon? Are you in there? Let me in, please.” He would know that voice anywhere.

It’s Jisung.

He unfreezes, the ice inside him unthawing like the older man’s voice is the warm, beaming sun. He goes to move towards the door, not even thinking about it, until Jihoon places an arm in front of him to stop him.

“What if it’s a trick?” He says.

“I...but...why?” Woojin flounders.

“Because last time we saw them they hated us, and we have no reason to believe they don’t still hate us. Maybe they— or whatever this is— decided that just getting rid of us wasn’t enough.”

Woojin wants to argue, he wants to run to the door and throw himself into their arms. But he knows that that’s what Jihoon wants too, and he’s not saying this to be unfair but because he has a point and they both know it even if neither of them want to.

“But what if it’s not?” Woojin says weakly. “What if they really came back for us and we just..turn them away?”

“Can we take that chance?” Once upon a time, that question would have been rhetorical, it would have been Jihoon telling Woojin he’s being an idiot, but now...now he knows Jihoon wants an answer, Woojin just wishes he knew the right one.

“I know we hurt you!” The voice on the other side of the door says. “We know we hurt you, and we’re so, so sorry. We don’t expect you to forgive us...just, let us explain, please.”

Woojin’s heart aches hearing the words. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Jisung sound so desperate and lost, and he wants to believe that that can’t be fake.

“Please...you’re our family, please.” Jisung’s voice breaks into a strangled sob at the end of the sentence and either that or the words themselves are apparently enough for Jihoon, because he goes to open the door.

“Jisung,” he breathes, and Woojin can hear the kaleidoscope of emotions in his voice, too complicated to put into words.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” Jisung says again.

Woojin doesn’t notice himself walking towards the huddle at the door until Jisung is right in front of him, and he locks eyes with the older man and says, before he can stop to think about it, “We forgive you.”

Suddenly, Woojin wraps him up in a warm hug that feels so much like home it fills the empty part of him that had started to grow again.

“Woojin—“ Jisung’s voice is shocked. “You’re touching me. You know what that means.”

Woojin nods. He doubts Jisung can see it, but he can probably feel it. “Yeah, I know. I’m ready.”

“Woojin. Woojin, Woojin, Woojin,” Jisung whispers his hair like a mantra. “I promised to keep you safe, and I failed to do that. I’m sorry. But from now on, if you let me, I’ll keep that promise. I’ll keep you safe and sound.”

There’s hugs, and there’s tears, and so many arms and voices that Woojin loses track. It’s only when they’re all sat around the table, Jihoon’s plan still there, half written out in sharpie on kitchen towel, that it even truly hits them that they’re all there.

They explain, quick and rushed and afraid. It’s more or less what Jihoon thought and Woojin hoped had happened, but if he’s honest he’s barely listening. The details don’t matter right now, what matters is that whatever happened, they got past it and here they are, together.

“So,” Jisung breathes, looking down at his palms, nervous. “What do we do now?”

Woojin smiles. “Let's go home.”

It’s dark outside by the time their cabs arrive and Woojin is hit with that crisp night air and nighttime silence that makes everything both a little bit more and less real. It’s the kind of time where the world is quiet and the streets are empty and it makes him feel a little bit like they’re the only people in the world.

He climbs into the backseat, Jihoon taking the other side, Jisung in the passenger seat next to the driver. Part way through the drive, he feels Jihoon’s hand tentatively brush up against his own, and it hits him.

He’s home.

 

 

* * *

 

In the end, it’s Woojin who figures it out.

The night they bring them home, they go straight to sleep. It’s been a mentally and physically exhausting day for all of them. Guanlin himself barely sleeps, because he’s afraid he’ll wake up and it will all have been a dream, or Jihoon and Woojin will sneak out of their rooms and leave in the middle of the night, deciding not to give them another chance after all.

When he walks into the kitchen the next morning, it’s with apprehension, followed by relief when he sees Woojin and Jihoon sitting at the table. He goes to join them, more scared than he’s ever been around them before, but Jihoon smiles gently, rubs his hair and says ‘missed you, Guanlinnie’ and suddenly everything is okay again, at least for now.

They all have breakfast together. They don’t plan on it, but it falls into place like it’s supposed to. Everyone pads sleepily into the kitchen from their respective corners, blinking their eyes and ruffling their bed-heads, doing a subtle double take when they lay eyes on Woojin and Jihoon as if they too think yesterday was just a dream they may have been brutally woken up from.

They grab food, settle around the table. For a moment, it’s awkward, like breakfast is somehow uncharted territory. After a few moments, someone breaks the silence, and then conversation comes pouring out naturally. They fall into their usual pattern, the one they had built up after months and months together.

Guanlin thinks that this house feels like home for the first time in ages.

They can’t beat around the bush forever, of course. As much as they all may want things to fall back into place, slot into the spaces they’ve always filled and never change them again, they can’t. Their minds and memories were toyed with, and they don’t know how or why and they can’t let that fall to the wayside, because what if it happens again? What if it happens to someone else? What if it happens to him?

So when everyone’s finished eating they settle in the living room. Guanlin takes the floor, leaning against Jihoon’s legs where the other boy sits in the chair behind him.

“So—“ It’s Jihoon who asks, straightforward. “What exactly happened?”

It’s not an easy question to answer. Even they’re not sure how to make sense of it, and they’re the ones it happened to. It sounds pretty unreal, even in their lives of powers and downright insanity.

But they explain as best as they can. Guanlin starts zoning out at one point, but his attention is grabbed again by the words “It’s like something changed our opinions...our perception.” Or, more accurately,  _ Woojin’s  _ attention is grabbed by that, head shooting up in alarm.

“Did you say perceptions?” He asks.

A blanket of silence falls over them. Guanlin can see everyone looking between each other, confused. The moments over in the space of a breath, when Jisung let’s out a ‘yes’ voice tilting up at the end like a question.

“I think,” Woojin’s voice is hesitant, and Guanlin gets the chilling, unshakeable feeling that they’re not going to like whatever’s going to come. “I might know who did it.”

“Who?” Guanlin breathes.

Woojin’s eyes are glued to the floor again. “At the mansion.”

Guanlin internally deflates. There it is. The last thing any of them wanted to hear. It’s an answer, sure, but it’s one that comes with immeasurable baggage.

“There were rumours. The boss, I never knew what his power was, I think only those closest to him did. So, naturally, there were a lot of stories around. There was one that he could manipulate perceptions— apparently it’s how one of the girls ended up joining, the boss made her family turn against her until she had no other options or something.”

“So you think he did it?” There’s almost an eagerness for Woojin to say yes in Jihoon’s tone. Woojin looks over at at Jihoon then, and it seems like there’s some silent conversation happening right before his eyes, in a language he hasn’t even heard of before. Huh, strange.

“I don’t know, I don’t even know for sure that he  _ can  _ do it, but…”

“It’s our only lead,” Jihoon finishes the sentence.

“Yeah,” Woojin nods. “And a good one too.”

“So what do we do now?” Guanlin asks quietly.

Both Woojin and Jihoon go to say something, but it’s Jisung who speaks first. “We don’t do anything.”

“What— What do you mean we don’t do anything? We can’t just let him get away with this.” Jihoon says, both flat and incredulous.

“No, I can’t. I’ll do something about this. Me, and Sungwoon and Daniel and Minhyun and Seongwoo and Jaehwan, if they want. But you won’t.”

In movies, Guanlin has watched scenes where a concert or play draws to a heavy, dramatic close. There, there will be silence for a moment, as the audience takes it in, and then they will get up on their feet with raucous cheers.

This moment is kind of like that, but instead of an audience cheering it’s teenagers yelling in outrage.

“You can’t just leave us behind!” Daehwi protests, amongst the rest of the cacophony of noise.

“I can and I will.” Jisung is unusually firm and it makes Guanlin shiver a little.

“But—“

“No buts.” Guanlin had thought that ‘putting your foot down’  was just a figure of speech until now, but Jisung does it, emphasised by crossing his arms. “Don’t argue with me. Just...I’ll be in my room.

“Tell us why, at least,” Jinyoung pipes up.

Jisung looks torn, feet already facing the door. In the end, though, he says. “This is dangerous. This is stupidly dangerous. I already...I already almost lost two of you. I’m not putting any of you at risk again.”

Then, he walks away, leaving nothing but stewing silence behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's me, back not in GREAT time but sooner than expected!  
> this authors note is really just to thank everyone who was understanding of the current slow update schedule and wished me luck on my upcoming exams! you guys are so sweet and i love you!
> 
> oh and my twitter is now @kdncIub (the L is a capital I)


	13. Chapter 13

The words blur in front of Daniel’s eyes, becoming a mess of crooked lines that make about as much sense to him as the words did anyway. He’s never read so much in his life, not even in high school when he spent his days studying book after book. The thrumming pain behind his eyes has become a constant now— he has no choice but to work through it.

He makes an almost futile attempt to blink his vision back to normal and takes a deep breath before turning back to the screen in front of him and picking up where he left off.  
  
It’s been two weeks. Two weeks since they realised their unforgivable mistake. Two weeks since Woojin and Jihoon came back to them. Two weeks searching for a way to get justice, get revenge. Two weeks of finding nothing. Two weeks where they all act like they’re not frustrated and exhausted by that, by all of this, and Daniel does too— he walks around with his smile, a mask of humanity hiding the fragile, tenuous thing he feels like beneath.  
  
Impatience thrums through him. He holds it inside with tape and string and hopes. The house itself is at a breaking point, brick and wood ready to crack and crumble from the things pushing at them from the inside. It needs a glimmer of hope so it can seal the fault lines and pull itself together.  
  
Daniel takes another breath, looks down at the screen in his hand and the chewed tablet pen in the other. He looks around at his friends— Jisung poring through case files, Guanlin typing away on his laptop, all of them doing anything they can to find even a tiny lead that would get them back into that house, and he doesn’t know when it will come.  
  
“Hey,” Jaehwan gets his attention from the spot next to him on the floor. “You okay?”  
  
His eyes scan the room again. Exhausted bodies piled on chairs and sprawled over the floor, pieces of paper littering the hardwood, the sound of keys clacking and pens scratching and people sighing. It’s like they’re a group of college kids, stressing through exams season, and that idea is so normal yet so far from it that it makes Daniel laugh.  
  
“Peachy,” he answers, laughter still echoing throughout the otherwise empty word.  
  
They research until dawn breaks over the horizon and their bodies are too exhausted to fight sleep anymore.

Daniel goes up to his room alone. Seongwoo isn’t home. He has a shift— one he’d offered to cancel, but he needed the break and they all needed to keep up the illusion that they’re no different from anyone else— so Daniel takes the whole bed to himself but it only makes him feel that much worse.

  
There’s a knock at the door, but they don’t wait for an answer before they come in.  
  
“Peachy?” Jaehwan snorts. Daniel can imagine his face though he can’t see anything but the white of his pillow. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”  
  
“Well I didn’t expect you to burst into my bedroom at four a.m but here we are,” Daniel murmurs, but there’s no heat behind it and he turns onto his back so he can finally look at the other man.  
  
Jaehwan laughs— not loud and boisterous but something that sounds new and full of a meaning that Daniel is too tired to puzzle out. “Wanna talk about it?” He asks, finally moving from the doorway and perching on the side of the bed not taken up by Daniel’s legs.  
  
He thinks about it. He could sit there and let all his thoughts and feelings free instead of locking them away, but it doesn't seem necessary. He’s sure that the mood is shared by everyone. Besides, exhaustion thrums through him stronger than any emotion. In the end, he shakes his head. “No. I just wanna sleep.”  
  
A beat of silence, like Jaehwan is debating something, and then an ‘okay’ as he gets up to leave.  
  
“No,” Daniel hums, sleep already half overtaking his mind and body. “I want you to stay,”  


His heavy fatigue doesn’t knock him out enough to stop him stirring when the bedroom door opens. He opens his eyes to Seongwoo toeing off his shoes at the door, and when their gazes meet Daniel doesn’t know what's more obvious on his boyfriend's face— the lack of sleep or the remorse of waking Daniel up.  
  
“Sorry,” he whispers.  
  
“Shhhh,” Daniel murmurs. “Jaehwan is sleeping.”

...Oh yeah...Jaehwan.

Daniel shoots up like he’s been struck by lightning, smoothing his hands over the covers in a search for Jaehwan. All he finds an empty plane of cotton and silk. His brain is sleep-muddled and floaty so he barely notices that the lightning has finally set his nerves alight with pain.  
  
“Jaehwan was here?” Seongwoo asks casually.  
  
“I-uh-yeah.” Once it’s out of his mouth he wonders if he should have said it at all. They all share beds a lot, but somehow this feels different. This isn’t the living room floor, or cuddling up to his best friend of a lifetime. This is his bed— his and Seongwoo’s bed, this is Jaehwan and—  
  
“Cool,” Seongwoo replies, just as casual as before. He peels off his work clothes, changes into a soft white shirt and sweatpants, and crawls into bed like Daniel hasn’t said anything strange at all. “I wonder where he went...maybe he can’t deal with you hogging the bed like I can.”  
  
Daniel shakes his head, not in denial but because everything is a little hazy and unreal and he feels like he’s bordering two planes— the one between reality and dreams, the one between normality and something new. It’s nothing he knows how to voice, so he laughs and says “well, better go to sleep before I steal the covers too” and Seongwoo smiles and closes his eyes and that’s the end of that.  
  
When he wakes up again the sunlight is streaming in and normality is back in place. Seongwoo is still sleeping, arms clutching on to his pillow and the tiniest bit of drool dripping out the corner of his mouth. Daniel does his best not to disturb him as he crawls to his feet  
  
He brushes his teeth and washes his face and leaves his morning routine to the bare minimum. They all look like they’ve been dragged through hell and back, there’s no point in trying to hide it. He drags himself downstairs, surprised to find a quiet emptiness. A quick look at his phone tells him it’s a little earlier than he thought. Hopefully, everyone else is catching a few moments of extra sleep.  
  
He turns on the coffee maker, making sure to fill it enough that there won’t be any early morning fights from people jittery for their morning caffeine fix, then makes himself something to eat

 

He’s leaning against the counter, drinking the chocolate milk out of his finished bowl of cereal when Minhyun pads over to him.  
  
“Good morning,” he says, heading straight for the still hot pot of coffee.  
  
Daniel can’t help but huff a laugh. Minhyun doesn’t like coffee, never has. That one simple action speaks volumes as to how tired they all are. Silence washes over the kitchen, and neither of them makes any effort to break it. Instead, Minhyun practically gulps down his coffee. A look out the corner of Daniel’s eye makes him notice the older man is holding himself differently. He’s tense, flighty, like he wants to take off at any moment.  
  
Minhyun finishes his coffee before Daniel’s even put his bowl in the sink.  
  
“Meet me in the living room. Twenty minutes,” is all he says before walking away.  
  
Daniel places his bowl in the sink and stares after him. Twenty minutes? Won’t they all be in the living room then anyway? It unofficially became their place to congregate for research, because at least suffering through it together is better than doing it alone.  He doesn’t know what else to do with the twenty minutes stretching in front of him, so he heads to the living room anyway. He picks up a tablet, opens it to find a page of building schematics. He presumes they’re for the boss’ mansion, but he doesn’t understand them. It’s just dots and lines. He promptly decides to leave that to whoever was looking at it before and picks up one of the books lying on the floor instead.

People trickle in one after the other, mostly half-asleep, clutching cups of coffee close to their chests There’s not really conversation, except for the occasional mumble of ‘good morning’. Daniel doesn’t mind, even he’s struggling to be enthusiastic when he’s so damn tired, but they can’t stop because until they figure out what to do. There’s a threat looming over their heads that’s so much worse than blurry vision and falling asleep with their faces in books.  
  
It isn’t until everyone else takes up their usual spots that Daniel realises Minhyun is nowhere to be seen. In fact, he  hasn’t seen him since the conversation in the kitchen that he almost forgot, forcing himself to focus on their mission instead. He thinks back to Minhyun’s rigid posture and clipped words and wonders uneasily what was so important that he had to make sure Daniel would be there.  
  
He guesses he’ll be able to stop wondering, because Minhyun finally edges the door open and slips into the room. He’s impossibly silent, like he’s trying not to draw attention to himself. He looks up and Daniel meets his eyes, but he doesn’t know if Minhyun even sees him. He looks worlds away from them right now. Still, he coughs to get everyone's attention before moving to the centre of the room.  
  
He stops there, unmoving as glass and twice as fragile. His head is hanging heavy on his shoulders, weighed down by an invisible crown of thorns that prick his skin every second he stands there. Daniel doesn’t know what’s going on, but even he knows that whatever it is, it must be hard for Minhyun. Eventually, he raises his head and takes a deep breath, but he doesn’t meet any of their eyes despite the apparent strength in his voice.  
  
“Let me tell you a story. A story about a group of kids who got in way over their heads...a story that doesn’t have a happy ending.”  
  
And that’s how they finally learn who Jonghyun is, and why Minhyun seems on the verge of breaking down every time he’s mentioned  
  
“And then what?” Daniel asks, when Minhyun’s story is apparently finished, but he’s still hanging on the edge of his seat because it seems like it’s not truly done yet.  
  
Minhyun shrugs, and Daniel can feel the hopelessness in the movement. “And that’s it. I never saw Jonghyun again after that night, but I’ve been looking. I— that’s how I met Jisung, and how I ended up here, and I’ve never stopped. But—“ he sighs “ I’m no closer now than I was then.”  
  
Daniel feels his heart snap, and he starts moving towards Minhyun without even realising he’s doing it. He approaches the other man slowly, carefully, but as he’s doing it he realises it’s ridiculous because this is Minhyun and he’s never needed them to be so gentle with him before.  
  
“Minhyun. I’m so sorry—“  
  
Minhyun flinches away from his touch. “Don’t do that. I don’t want your...your pity. I’m still the same person I’ve always been.”  
  
Daniel flinches too.

“It’s not pity. I don’t pity you, none of us do. We care about you. It’s different,” he says firmly.

Minhyun lets out a breath— one he’s been holding in for a long time, for longer than Daniel has even known him. Daniel barely has time to register Minhyun’s arms wrapping around him until they’re already holding him tight. Daniel hugs him back and hears a ‘thank you” whispered just loud enough for them all to hear.  
  
When Minhyun lets Daniel go, he laughs, minuscule, more air than noise, and says “It feels better to get that off my chest than expected. I’m... I’m sorry I kept it from you all for so long.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Daniel replies. He hopes Minhyun knows he needs it. “But I’m glad you told us.”  
  
“Me too.”  
  
Daniel doesn’t know what he expects to happen from there, but it’s not Guanlin asking, in a voice graver than he’s ever heard from the kid. “Minhyun, I’m sorry for asking but...when exactly did he go missing?”  
  
Minhyun seems as taken aback as Daniel feels, but he lists off the date to Guanlin almost immediately— it must be ingrained in his mind for him to find it so immediately.  
  
“I have something to tell you. Wait here,” and with that Guanlin is gone, rushing off up the stairs.

 

* * *

 

Minhyun struggles to keep himself upright. The muscles in his legs seem to turn to nothing. He wants nothing more than to collapse where he stands and never move again. Yet, despite the death of his muscles, his nerves are alive and on edge. Guanlin said he had something to tell him, something about Jonghyun, and that’s enough to keep him standing and to keep his thoughts from dwelling on what he’d just told everyone, the fact that they _knew_ now, and the fact he’s so glad they do.

 

_Minhyun was trying to remind himself why he thought this was a good idea._

_This would be his third meeting with Jisung. The first one at the police station still felt unreal, taking place somewhere far away and hazy. The second was outside, in broad daylight, in a cafe . It had started with Minhyun so on edge he made a mental note of every exit, but it went...fine, more than fine, Minhyun even felt like his old self for a while._

_But that was just the two of them, and this was Jisung’s house, where he lived, with his friends. His friends who Minhyun had specifically said that he didn’t want to know about him, but Jisung was incredibly persuasive and besides, according to him, everything he had that could actually help Minhyun was here._

_He debated changing his mind, running back to his empty (so, so unbearably empty) apartment and changing his number. But he couldn’t chicken out now. This wasn’t about him, It was about Jonghyun. He was willing to put his life on the line for that man for years. He would move heaven and earth if it meant seeing him again, so by that logic knocking on one door and making small talk with some strangers for five minutes was nothing he should hesitate at._

_He knocked._

_Jisung was quick to answer the door. Minhyun wondered if he was waiting. Maybe he wasn’t sure that Minhyun would show up._

_“Hello.” Minhyun nodded, polite, a twinge of awkwardness in the words._

_“Hi, Minhyun!” Jisung apparently felt no such awkwardness. To watch him, you would think that they’d be best friends for years. “Come on in.”_

_Minhyun shuffled inside and took his time slipping off his shoes._

_“Do you want to take your coat off too?” Jisung asked._

_“No, I’m fine,” Minhyun shook his head. He didn’t want to get too comfortable._

_“Okay. Well, come on in. The files that I...uhh..borrowed...are upstairs.”_

_Minhyun nodded and almost let out a sigh of relief. If they were heading upstairs, maybe he wouldn’t have to worry about Jisung’s friends getting involved after all._

_“Jisung?!”_

_Or not, Minhyun groaned internally_

_A head rounded the corner from what Minhyun presumed was the living room._

_“Jisung, have you seen my— oh, hi!”_

_The kid poking his head around the doorway had black hair and a gummy smile that made Minhyun want to smile back. He couldn’t be older than sixteen, if that._

_“I’m Guanlin,” he introduced himself. “Are you Jisung’s friend or?”_

_“I’m Minhyun,” he said, because he didn’t have it in him to just ignore this kid. “I...Uhhh…met Jisung on Grindr.” Coming up with cover stories was never his thing_

_Guanlin blinked before bursting into laughter. “Jisung….you go on Grindr?!”_

_“I do not go on Grindr!” Jisung insisted, holding up a finger pointedly. “We did not meet on Grindr! I don’t...I don’t even know what Grindr is! And neither should you Guanlin!”_

_“Then how did you meet?” Guanlin challenged._

_“I...Can’t I just have friends? Is that so hard to believe...don’t answer that!” Jisung breathed. “Now, what were you looking for, Guanlin?”_

_“Huh? Oh...my toolkit!”_

_Minhyun blinked “Why does he have...you know what, never mind.” Don’t answer any questions, and don’t ask any either, he reminded himself._

_“I’ll be back in a second.” Jisung smiled apologetically before running off after Guanlin._

_Thankfully it was only a few moments before he met Minhyun back in the hallway._

_“You okay?” He asked quietly. “No other stray kids bother you?”_

_“No,” Minhyun answered flatly. Why was Jisung treating him like he was so fragile? It’s not like he’d break if he saw another human being, he just didn’t know these people, didn’t care about them, and most of all didn’t want to have to tell them about something he could barely stand to think about in the confines of his own mind. “Anyway, we were going upstairs?”_

_Jisung seemed to catch on to his bad mood and starts leading the way without further comment. They’re approaching a closed door when there’s another shout of ‘Jisung?’, this time from a completely different voice._

_Minhyun sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to spend too much more time here._

 

Guanlin comes back after what seems like both an instance and an eon. In striking contrast to the way he ran out of the room, he drags his feet on the way back in, eyes glued to the ground, and Minhyun understands because that’s exactly how he feels too.

“I’m really sorry.” He starts, quiet and frantic all at once. In my defense, I didn’t mean to! I mean, at first, at first I didn’t mean to. Then when I’d already started I thought ‘what if it’s important’ and ‘what if I can help’ so...so I kept looking! But the point is I’m super sorry! Anyway, uh— “

“Guanlin, breathe,” Minhyun says, because as much as he wants to know, he doesn’t want Guanlin to faint.

Guanlin does as he’s told and takes a couple of deep breaths before starting again, sounding more like himself this time. He tells Minhyun about the time he was fixing his computer, stumbling across an old web search he didn’t mean to— a single date— and how it had spiraled from there. Minhyun feels a surge of anger shoot through him at the invasion of privacy, but it’s quelled when he looks at Guanlin, radiating nervousness. He doesn’t want to interrupt, but he tries to force his lips into a smile to show Guanlin he’s not mad at him.

“I didn’t find Jonghyun. I didn’t find anything about him really, but—”

Minhyun deflates and it’s only then he realises that he’d gotten his hopes up in the first place. He feels stupid. He’s been looking for a year and he really expects Guanlin to have found him in a few minutes? It’s not that easy, he knows it isn’t, but he was hoping for a miracle (he’s always hoping for a miracle.)

“But- “ he continues. “I did find this.” Minhyun hadn’t even realised he was cradling something in his clasped hands, but he holds out a USB stick, clear as day. “I...I really don’t know if it’s even related. That’s why I didn’t mention it for so long. It’s nothing about that exact date, and it certainly didn’t mention Jonghyun. But…” Guanlin seems to receive a new rush of energy there, an excited rush to talk about what he found. “Around that time, and I mean around, like we’re talking months here. But, around that time, Southway City saw an unusual rise in crime.”

Minhyun blinks. He tries to make sense of what Guanlin is saying, but his mind is drawing a blank. His eyes slide over to Jisung, and apparently, he’s not the only one. It seems most people in the room are looking at him as if he has all the answers.

Jisung just scrunches his eyebrows under the scrutiny. “Maybe? I remember feeling really busy around that time. I didn’t think anything of it though.”

“Anyway,” Guanlin continues.“It wasn’t just an unusual rise in the rate of crime, but an unusual rise in the rate of arrests. People seemed to be getting arrested for these petty crimes left and right. Now, for the strangest thing of all. I had to hack into the police records for this— sorry Jisung— but everyone arrested claimed that they hadn’t _meant_ to commit these crimes. They reported that their memories weren’t of committing crimes, but of taking objects they’d already paid for, or for stepping in to stop a fight instead of starting one, things like that. They— “ Guanlin trails off then, seeming to realise something, and Jisung finished the thought for him.

“...They perceived things differently than what was actually happening.”

“Holy fuck,” Minhyun hears someone whisper.

Minhyun’s brain feels like it’s overloading trying to process everything. What happened to them— the altering of their perceptions that almost caused them to lose Jihoon and Woojin— has happened before, and it’s happened to multiple people. It’s been happening for over a year now, right under their noses. And—

“Does this mean that...whoever who did this to us...had something to so with Jonghyun’s disappearance?” Jinyoung asks the question before Minhyun has even fully spelled it out in his mind.

“Does it?” Jisung hums. “It’s not a direct connection, like Guanlin said, there’s nothing actually linking this...thing...to Jonghyun, not even the date.”

“You’re right,” Minhyun’s staring at the floor again, like the answers will be hidden in the pattern of the hardwood. It’s the only way he can think. There’s so much information, both new and old, swimming around in his head. Floating over all the information, there’s a voice— a voice saying things he doesn’t want to hear. “There’s nothing connecting it, except the fact that a rise in crime is exactly the kind of thing that we would have jumped on back then...we should have seen it...we should have looked into it...What if Jonghyun was?”

Minhyun knew Jonghyun better than he knew anyone. The man he knew wouldn't ignore something like this if he knew about it. He was acting strangely before he disappeared. Minhyun has always known this, he’d just never been able to figure out _why_. He knew that when he went out that night, it was probably crime fighting related, he’d just never known what he was fighting against. This feels like a puzzle piece. A puzzle-piece that could explain everything, Jonghyun’s disappearance, what he saw in his vision— Jonghyun fighting a mysterious figure in what he’s convinced was a warehouse— but he doesn’t know where to slot the piece into place.

.“But why would he keep it a secret?” He asks himself quietly.

They told each other everything, at least, Minhyun had thought they did, until those last few weeks. Jonghyun didn’t keep secrets...but he did try to carry all their burdens alone...and he was always looking out for them…

“He did it to protect us,” Minhyun breathes, the realisation settling inside him like he always should have known. “He did it to protect us,” he says again, louder this time, talking to his friends and not just himself. “Which means he knew that whatever he was getting into, whatever _we’re_ getting into, is more dangerous than anything we’ve faced before.”

Scenes from his vision flash before his eyes, not the vision of Jonghyun but the one of _them_ and fighting and screaming and so much blood he still feels like he’s choking on it when he thinks of it.

“We’ll be fine,” Daehwi reaches out for his hand. “We’ve got this.”

“No,” Minhyun shakes his head. “You can’t be involved in this. It’s like Jisung said. You’re...you’re _all_ too young for this.”

Jisung told him that, his vision told them that, his own experiences told him that.  Kids shouldn’t be involved in this. Hell, none of them should, but it’s a clue to what Minhyun has been searching for for so long and he can’t let it go now that it’s in his grasp. He’s old enough to make his own decisions, even if they lead him into hell. But if he can’t save himself, then he can at least save the people who matter most to him.

 

* * *

 

“But I want to help!” Daehwi argues.

“Daehwi, you can’t.”

“Why not? You just said you were my age when you started going out and fighting people!”

“And look what happened,” Minhyun says darkly.

Daehwi closes his mouth. He doesn’t want to fight with Minhyun, not right now. Not with that look in his eyes that makes him seem so much older than his years.

“Let’s just leave it, for now. We still don’t even know _what_ we’re doing. We have no real plans, in case you all forgot,” Daehwi says.

“We’re working on it,” Jisung’ voice full of conviction, but Daehwi knows it’s all pretend.

“Okay.” He nods. “Well, I guess I’ll go then, since I’m ‘too young to be involved’” he puts air quotes around the last words and leaves the living room before anyone can respond.

When he gets upstairs he collapses in a hump on to the bed. He doesn’t know how long he’s sat there, thinking about everything, about his life and Minhyun’s life and what exactly he can do to prove he’s good enough for this,  before he hears the gentle ‘tap ‘tap’ on his door.

“Go away,” he sighs.

“Daehwi, it’s Woojin. Can I please come in?”

Oh. He was expecting it to be Minhyun, or Jisung, or someone else coming to lecture him. He considers saying he wants to be left alone anyway, but he knows that’s not what he _really_ wants, so he lets Woojin in.

“Hey,” Woojin says as he opens the door. Despite how annoyed and overwhelmed Daehwi is feeling right now, seeing his friend standing in the doorway when he thought he may never see him again almost makes him forget it all.

“What’s up?” Woojin continues.

Almost.

Daehwi flops down on his back with a sigh. He feels Woojin sit down next to him. They don’t talk for a moment, but eventually, Daehwi breaks the silence. He can’t hold it in anymore.

“Do you agree with them? That we’re too young for this.”

“Hmm.” Daehwi takes that noise to mean that Woojin is thinking. He doesn’t rush him, even though he wants to. His body feels jittery, a buzzing under his skin that he can’t quite pinpoint. He’s normally fairly in touch with his emotions, but right now all he knows is that he feels _wrong_ , that something about this discussion is stirring up something he hasn’t dared to wonder about before.

In the end, Woojin says “I think we should be.”

Oh. That’s it.

They _should_ be too young for this. They should be too young for half the things that they’ve been through. But they weren’t, because the universe doesn’t spare you for being a kid, especially not a superpowered one.

They should be too young, and they _are_ young, but they’re not undamaged. They’re not like other kids their age. And it hurts to think about. It hurts that all those moments that he’s been sitting with his friends at school, or texting Somi, or listening to Samuel ramble when they hang out, and he’s suddenly been hit with the feeling that he’s _different_ from them, it’s not just because he was carrying the secret of his powers but because he was carrying years of pain they hadn’t experienced.

Pain they’ve experienced because of people…. _people who deserve to pay_ , he thinks with a vengeance.

 

_“You know that Jisung is hiding something from you, right?”_

_Daehwi, there’s no other word for it, jumped. He was in the kitchen, getting a milkshake from the fridge, and suddenly that voice appeared out of nowhere. Once he’d calmed down, he realised that came from Jihoon, who was standing in the doorway._

_“Why did you just sneak up on me like that?!” Daehwi demanded.._

_Jihoon just blinked, and Daehwi honestly felt a little unsettled. Jihoon had only arrived here about a week ago, and this was probably the first time he’d spoken to Daehwi. Normally he just...watched him. Honestly, Daehwi wasn’t even totally sure how he ended up here, just that Jisung brought him home one day and they seemed to have known each other for a while._

_“Wait,” Daehwi frowned. “What do you mean he’s hiding something from me?”_

_Jihoon smiled. It was a curious thing, a little flick of the mouth like he knew something you didn’t. Well, that was no surprise, since apparently, he did._

_“Haven’t you ever noticed he always goes out at night? Or is that past your bedtime?”_

_“He’s an adult. Adults go out at night.” Daehwi shrugged._ _“Jisung’s not out getting drunk, Daehwi.” Jihoon rolled his eyes._

_Daehwi put his glass on the counter and crossed his arms. “Yeah? Then where is he going? If you know so much?”_

_Daehwi didn’t mean to be rude, but he was honestly a little annoyed. He lived here first, he’d known Jisung for longer. And now this kid is here, acting all mysterious, like he’s high above Daehwi even though there’s barely a couple of years between them, and trying to suggest that he knew things about Jisung that Daehwi didn’t. Who did he think he was?_

_“He has superpowers. What do people with superpowers do?” Jihoon said, like it should be obvious._

_“Apparently sneak up on other people with superpowers in their kitchens at night.” Daehwi raised an eyebrow._

_Jihoon, to Daehwi’s amazement, actually laughed, He quickly plucked that laugh out of the air and took it back, like he didn’t mean for it to come out, but he couldn’t hide it now._

_“Point taken,” Jihoon said. “But my point is that Jisung is going out there, and he’s fighting crime.”_

_“...He’s a police officer,” Daehwi said carefully._

_“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I mean that he’s doing it on his downtime. And when I say fighting, I mean fighting, not taking people down to the station in cuffs.”_

_Daewhi honestly can’t say that he’s following. It sounds ridiculous. Jisung was...Jisung. He let people who have nowhere else to go live in his house. He helped Daehwi with his homework. He went to work and came back with dinner for them all. He wasn’t a fighter. He was...Jisung._

_“And how do you know this?. “Did you follow him? Did you see him kill someone in a back alley or whatever it is you’re suggesting he does?”_

_Jihoon smiled that smile again. “Maybe.”_

_Daehwi frowned again. “I don’t believe you.”_

_Jihoon shrugged. “Then don’t. If you’re content with sitting here, drinking your milk, and acting like everything is normal, like you’re normal, then go ahead. But just so you know, I’m not. If he’s out there fighting, then I’m going to fight with him.”_

_With that, Jihoon left. He left Daehwi alone in the kitchen with a milkshake he wasn’t sure he really wanted anymore and a head swirling with confusion_

_Daehwi couldn’t sleep that night. His mind was stuck on the things Jihoon had said, even if he swore to himself that he didn’t believe them. He lay awake, with only the glare of his alarm clock next to him for light, and combed over everything he knew about Jisung in his mind, trying to fit it with what Jihoon had told him._

_It was nearing one a.m when he heard it— the clop of shoes walking down the hall and then, a few seconds later, the mechanic ‘click’ of the door opening and closing. He pushed his covers aside and headed out into the hallway._

_It wasn’t necessarily Jisung, right? It could be Seongwoo, his job at the diner sometimes fell on night shifts and he’d be there when Daehwi went to bed but gone in the morning. It could be anyone, going outside for any reason, it wasn’t even that late!_

_But he was too curious now. He had to know for sure. He tread up to Jisung’s bedroom and hesitated in front of the door. He had nothing to be nervous about, he told himself. If Jisung was there he’ll just say that he couldn’t sleep, or something. If he wasn’t there, well—_

_Daehwi knocked first, but there was no answer. It was late, Maybe Jisung was already asleep and didn’t hear him. He knocked again, harder this time. Still nothing._

_Finally, he pushed the door open._

_It was empty. No sign of Jisung._

_“So do you believe me now?”_

_Daehwi didn’t jump this time...much. “Can you stop doing that?” He asked, frustrated._

_“It’s not my fault you’re never paying attention,” Jihoon replied. “So, do you believe me?”_

_“I— “ Daehwi looked again at the empty bedroom. He tried to tell himself that it didn’t mean Jihoon was right, but what else could Jisung be hiding from him?_

_When he was laying in bed earlier, he couldn’t help but remember what Jihoon had said at the end. “I’m going to fight with him.”_

_Daehwi wanted that. He wanted a chance to fight back against all the bad that happened. He loved his life now, he loved the home he’d found and the people around him, but deep inside he still felt so much anger against all the things he couldn’t stop from happening. He had no outlet for it, so he pushed it down, ignored it, hoped if he could just let himself be happy it would disappear._

_It never had. And now, he had a chance to actually do something about it. Something that would help both him and other people._

_“I believe you...and I want in.” He said. “I want to fight.”_

_Jihoon smiled. “I’ll talk to Jisung. Leave it to me.”_

 

“Hey, calm down,” Woojin lays a gentle hand on his shoulder, kneading the tense muscle there.

“How am I supposed to calm down?” Daehwi whines. “It’s not fair. We deserve to fight back. _You’re_ the one this guy went after! He made us say terrible things to you! He made you think we didn’t want you!”

Woojin smiles. “Hey, I didn’t believe it for long. Besides...it wasn’t all bad.”

Daehwi frowns. “What do you mean?”

“...If I tell you, do you promise not to make a big deal out of it?”

“Nope, I’m not even gonna pretend I could stick to that promise.” Daehwi grins.

“That’s fair,” Woojin nods. “I’m gonna tell you anyway, because I kinda feel like if I don’t talk to someone about it I’m going to go insane.”

“What happened?” Daehwi asked. “I thought you said it wasn’t bad?”

“It wasn’t bad!” Woojin quickly protests. “At least, I didn’t think it was...at the time. Now, I’m not so sure.”

“Come on. Tell me.”

“So, me and Jihoon spent a lot of time together this week. Obviously, we were staying in the same apartment when you guys found us. And, well—“

“Oh my god, just say it!”

  


* * *

 

Jinyoung knocks on Daehwi’s door and is surprised by how relatively upbeat the answering ‘come in’ is. He swings the door open to find Daehwi lying on the bed, Woojin sat next to him, both of them laughing. It brings a smile to his face to see both of them there and happy. Even though Woojin has been back for a while now, everything’s been so hectic that he feels like he hasn’t had a chance to speak to him or Jihoon.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asks cautiously.

“Mutiny,” Woojin replies, very seriously.

“And love,” Daehwi sing-songs.

“Shut up,” Woojin hisses, shoving Daehwi’s shoulder.

“Uhhhh” Jinyoung says.

“You’re not interrupting anything. Come in.” Woojin smiles.

Jinyoung does as he’s told and heads for the unoccupied desk chair, plopping down and spinning so he’s facing the bed.

“So...love?” he asks, because mutiny is pretty self-explanatory after Daehwi’s outburst downstairs. He doesn’t want to bring it up again and potentially ruin the good mood they’ve found themselves in.

“It’s not love!” Woojin says “....maybe.”

Jinyoung blinks. “I’m gonna need a bit more info here.”

Woojin smiles awkwardly, twisting his hands in a clear sign of nerves. Jinyoung is about to tell him he doesn’t have to talk about it, but Woojin gets there before him. “Well...you know Jihoon?”

“I’m familiar with him yes.”

“Right, right.” Woojin breathes. “We kind of um...wekindofkissed.”

It takes Jinyoung a moment to decode that as ‘we kind of kissed’ and then he’s both surprised and not surprised at all.

Woojin and Jihoon have always had a _thing._ They all knew that. They just didn’t know if the _thing_ was going to end in love or murder. If they weren’t so concerned about the legitimate potential for murder they might have placed bets.

“...Was it good?”

“What?” Woojin blinks.

“Was he a good kisser?” He leans forward, awaiting the response.

“I’m not telling you that!” Woojin protests.

“So he was a bad kisser.” Jinyoung laughs.

“Hey! Everybody listen up! Park Jihoon is—“ Daehwi starts to yell only to be cut off when Woojin smacks a hand over his mouth.

“This isn’t about his kissing skills! But for the record it was,” Woojin breathes out, eyes wide and glassy as he thinks back to that moment. “Wow.”

“Hey! Everybody listen up! Park Jihoon is a good—“ Woojin slaps his hand over Daehwi’s mouth yet again.

“Do you guys want to hear the story or not?”

“Okay, Okay. We’ll be quiet,” Jinyoung manages to say through his laughter.

Woojin sadly skips over the more juicy details of the story and goes straight to where they are now. Well, more like where they’ve been since they got back. They held hands on the way home (and no, Jinyoung definitely doesn’t think that’s kind of cute) but that’s where it ends. Woojin and Jihoon haven’t talked since they got back to the house.

“Why not?” Jinyoung asks.

“ I don’t know. He just...hasn’t spoken to me,”

“and have you spoken to him?”

“Well...no.” Woojin sounds sheepish.

Daehwi sighs. “ it’s a two way street. you can’t just expect the other person do all the work. especially not when a person is...well...Jihoon.”

“Yeah, don’t know if you’ve noticed but he can be pretty closed off.”

“He’s avoiding me though. Whenever we’re in the same room as him he won’t meet my eyes. Sometimes he just walks straight out,” Woojin groans. “Did I do something wrong or?”

Jinyoung Purses his lips. he’s not really sure what to say here. First of all, he’s never had a relationship so that doesn’t help. Second of all, even if he had, he’s never had a relationship with Park Jihoon, which he’s sure is a whole new area of complexity. Again, even if he had, he’s not Park Woojin, who yet another layer of complexity in this mess of a cake.

Daehwi looks lost for words too, unsurprisingly. The only person the notebook prepares you for a relationship with is a low-key misogynistic white man who has a thing for building houses.

“Have you considered talking to someone else? Like, literally anyone else?” Jinyoung asks.

"No. This is stupid. I shouldn’t be worrying about this right now. God, Minhyun just told us boyfriend is missing, and I’m in here complaining about how a boy won’t talk to me? no wonder you all kicked me out.”

Jinyoung and Daehwi both gape at him.

“Kidding! I’m kidding!” He smiles.

“That’s not fair.” Daehwi crosses his arms. “Mr. I want Jihoon to be my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, low blow, Mr.When will Jihoon Senpai notice me?”

Both Jinyoung and Daehwi break into giggles and Woojin makes a choked sound, before falling into easy laughter along with them.

 

_One of Jinyoung’s first, most vivid memories is from when he was five years old. It took place, as most horrible things at that age seem to, on the playground._

_He was a good kid. That’s what parents told him. He grew up believing that, and he grew up believing that it was a nice thing to be._

_But other kids don’t care if you’re a good kid._

_Jinyoung had been excited for his first day of kindergarten. He felt grown up, he went to a real school now, his uniform had a tie and everything. He’d been out of bed extra early that morning, unable to sleep any longer. His mother had frowned at that, but he just told her that he couldn't help it. He was too eager to go to school._

_His mother fussed over him the entire walk, making sure that his jacket was warm enough, that he had all the things he may need, and most of all, that he wasn’t nervous. He told her with certainty that he wasn’t, but it didn’t stop her asking again and again._

_He let out a breath when she was finally shooed away by a teacher at the gates. The playground seemed like a whole new world. His parents didn’t take him out to play with other kids much, so seeing so many people his age in one space was incredible._

_Jinyoung let the teacher take him over to one of the lines of kids, and then she told them all to follow her as she lead them into what would be their classroom for the next year. The walls were painted a soft blue and the carpet was comfier than the one at home. Their teacher seemed nice She paid attention to all the kids equally instead of constantly watching him and telling him what to do like his parents did. Jinyoung thought it was strange, but it was welcome._

_She urged them all to sit in a circle and introduce themselves. Jinyoung listened with rapt attention to the other kids, sitting straight-backed with his hands in his lap. He was taken back when the teacher said it was his turn, but he got to his feet quickly and surveyed the rest of the classroom._

_Suddenly, he was struck with jelly-legged fear. He had never been around other kids like this before, and he realised suddenly that he had no idea what to say about himself. Suddenly, the whole situation was too, too much and he misses his mom and dad being by his side. He tried to think of something to say, to make any words come out, but it was like there was a zipper keeping his lips firmly sealed._

_The teacher was by him in a flash, telling him ‘it’s okay, Jinyoung,’ and ‘there’s nothing to be scared of here,’. It doesn’t ease his fear at all and he ended up curling in on himself where he stood. Everyone was looking at him. He knew it. It was too much._

_He ended being taken out of the classroom so he could calm down. Instead, they sat him in a little room with toys and a very nice man who told jokes that allowed him to forget about his fears. Thanks to him, Jinyoung had calmed down by snack time, and was ushered onto the playground._

_His newfound calm didn’t last long._

_He sat on a wall in the playground, pulling out the apple slices and juicebox his mom put in his lunchbox. A group of three other boys approached him. He smiled at them. He wanted to say hi, but even the thought of it made him close in on himself again._

_“Why are you so weird?” the kid at the front asked._

_Jinyoung scrunched up his face. “I— I’m not weird,” he managed to force out._

_“Yes you are! You don’t talk! That’s weird. My mom says I’m not supposed to hang around with weirdos!” The other boy sounded so firm in his belief that Jinyoung started to wonder if he’s right. He’d never been called weird before. People just told him he was a good kid. Were they just too nice to tell him that he was weird? Was that what they were trying to say all along?_

_“I— I’m sorry?” He tried. His lower lip was wobbling and he could feel tears forming in his eyes. He couldn’t cry, not know. He didn’t want to be weird and a crybaby._

_“Yeah, well...you’re a weirdo so you can’t be our friend. Come on guys, let's go play tag.” with that, the kids walked off, leaving Jinyoung with nothing but juicebox and a lot of confusion._

_It was one small drop in his life, but that drop spawned into an ocean. No one at school wanted to be his friend, or if they do, Jinyoung didn’t let them, but he didn’t stop them either. He was too scared to open his mouth and do something wrong again. He shrunk in on himself, making himself smaller because he was scared of his classmates even noticing him. He didn’t want people to look at him. He just wanted to fade into the background and not have to face whatever people may think of him. It became a habit— wanting to disappear._

_Until one day, far in the future from that moment, he does._

 

They laugh until their stomachs hurt, which is maybe strange because it isn’t _that_ funny but it’s freeing and nice and makes him feel like they can take on anything.

They just have to convince their friends of that too.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lived.
> 
> I'm sorry this took so long I love you all <3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: mentions of alcohol and a brief mention of drugs (weed) in the first 1/4
> 
> I'm so glad I got this chapter out faster than the last one. I'll try and keep an update schedule like this from now on since I don't really have anything else to do since it's summer.

“A Mojito, please.” 

Seongwoo smiles at the customer that gave him her order. The diamonds in her ears wink at him under the bar lights. She’s the kind of woman that will tip well if he plays his cards right. He doesn’t need the money, but the competition between the staff of who can collect the most tips each night passes the time.

When he first started working in bars he honestly found it tricky to remember all these over- complicated drinks, especially under the overly bright lights with the repetitive dance beats pounding in his ears, but it’s slowly evolved into second nature and he has a half-decent cocktail ready in record time.

He hands it over to the woman with another smile and accepts the crisp pile of notes she hands him in return. The tip is almost more than the drink itself. He’s totally going to win tonight.

Most of his shift in uneventful, he makes drinks, he avoids some of the more flirtatious customers, he dances along every time the DJ plays a song he likes. It gives him too much time to think. He works himself into a worry about how everyone at home is doing without him and if he’s missing anything important. He’s on the verge of just calling it a night early and letting his boss deal with it when one of his co-workers gets his attention.

“Hey, Ong, Can you take over for me?” Johnny asks, letting himself behind the bar.

“Take over doing what, exactly?” Seongwoo’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen Johnny all night. He’d presumed he was out getting stoned in his car, again.

“They set me on the VIP floor tonight. I have somewhere I need to be, but I don’t want to leave Taeyong alone up there.”

Seongwoo sighs. “Yeah, I’ll cover for you.” He likes the VIP floor. It’s always less busy than down here, and there’s plenty of people on staff down here who can cover his orders while the VIP floor only ever has two bartenders at a time for the sake of privacy.

“Sweet, man. I owe you one.”

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun on your date!” Seongwoo shouts after him.

Johnny turns back to him with a smirk “Oh, I will.”

Seongwoo explains the situation to Chungha then slips out from behind the bar and under the velvet rope that leads to the VIP section.

The entire bar is upscale, but the VIP section is illustrious even in his opinion. It’s all private booths with seats of velvet, spaced over solid marble floors that have a crystal chandelier hanging overhead. It has its own bar, stocked with only the most vintage wine or the most expensive spirits. If you want a night on the VIP floor you have to book in advance, and it’s not cheap.

He approaches the bar and Taeyong immediately shoves a tray of drinks in his hands. “Take these to table four.”

“Aye Aye, Captain.” He would salute, but his hands are full.

It takes him a second to catch his bearings since he doesn’t work up here often, but soon enough he figures out where table four is. There’s a small group of men in that booth, all in two-piece suits, looking like they came right out of a business meeting, or maybe this  _ is _ the business meeting.

He drops their drinks off and they don’t give him so much as a thank you. This is the one thing he hates about working the VIP floor. The customers seem to always presume they can buy and sell him with the gum in their pockets just because he works there, despite the fact he probably has as much money as most of them.

The floor is even emptier than usual tonight. It’s only the guys at table four, a young couple sat way at the other side of the room who can’t keep their hands to themselves, and a group of bored housewives on the other. Seongwoo ends up building a castle of glasses for something to do until Taeyong shoves another tray into his hands “Same table.”

Seongwoo blinks. Taeyong is no busier than he is. He’s been texting almost every time Seongwoo has looked in his direction, probably checking up on how Johnny’s date is going.

“Why can’t you do it?”

Taeyong slides his eyes over to the table in question before looking right back at Seongwoo. “Honestly? Something about those guys just gives me the creeps.”

Huh. Seongwoo had felt that Taeyong was a little...put-off when he first got here earlier, but he’d put that down to annoyance at being abandoned mid-shift by his one coworker for the night.

Seongwoo doesn’t push it and starts carrying the drinks over. He didn’t pay much attention to the men before, no more than the necessary amount it took to give them their drinks and leave, but this time he forces himself to focus.

The general mood emanating from the table is...tipsy as hell. Not malicious, or even rude, just...drunk.

His powers don’t help him at all, but when he’s close enough to the table his ears do.

He wishes they didn’t.

What he hears stops his breath in his chest. He barely avoids covering the floor in sticky alcohol and lemon wedges when he almost drops the tray of drinks in shock.

“...Is everything okay there? Be careful with our drinks, please.” One of the men smiles at him, and Seongwoo’s mind likens it to that of a shark. There may be no razor-sharp fangs in sight but Seongwoo still feels like he’s been caught in a feeding frenzy.

He places the drinks on the table, not letting a single emotion show on his face, and mutters his apologies out of habit before backing away.

When he feels like he’s a safe distance from the table he shouts a single word, ‘bathroom’, at Taeyong, before dashing there and slamming the door behind him.

The cold of the porcelain sinks leeches into his skin and he drinks it up, pressing his palms and fingers in tighter like it’s water and he’s on the verge of death. He flicks his eyes up to the mirror and catches sight of a coward. His eyes are blown and shaking. His complexion has faded to that of some sickening wax sculpture that’s taken his place. Even his previously flawlessly styled hair is a mess and he doesn’t even know how that happened.

He knows he’s being a coward, but he can’t help it. He’s in a full-fledged panic. Who wouldn’t be if they heard what he did?

_“We should have just let Woojin go, but...you know how it is.”_

Seongwoo knows what this means. He knows it means that those men, sat just a few feet away from him, are part of the boss’ crime syndicate. He knows that from the way he was talking, that’s the boss himself.

He just doesn’t know what to do with that information.

It’s insane. They’ve been searching for a way to get to this guy for weeks, and now here he is, in Seongwoo’s bar, drunk on whiskey sours. It’s...a stroke of luck, he just doesn’t know if that luck is good or bad yet.

He takes a few more moments to collect himself. His fingers itch to reach for his phone, but when his fingers line the pocket he fumbles. Who is he going to call? What’s he going to say to them? Is this even the right move at all?

The boss doesn’t seem to be on to him. No one would sit and drink the night away in front of a known enemy. He’d only be putting himself at risk. As much of an impossible coincidence as it should be, these men are on a night out, and they just happened to choose Seongwoo’s bar to do it in.

He should take advantage of this.

He leaves his phone untouched in his pocket and uses his hands to smooth out his hair instead. He splashes some water on his face and lets it wash his fears away.

He schools his features into a neutral mask and walks out of the bathroom like nothing happened.

He doesn’t go straight back to the bar, instead busying himself with bussing glasses from the other tables. He strains his ears to try and hear the conversation from table four, hoping he’s close enough without it being suspicious. It reaches him in snippets, some words clear and others shrouded in a fog of white noise.

“...enough about that let’s…..more important matters”

“are you...it’s a good idea...now?”

More than anything, he can hear the frantic beating of his own heart. He doesn’t think he’s in danger, but he knows these people are dangerous. Still, he inches closer and prays for his heart to calm down.

“...yes….has it under control….our...done”

“...so the party?”

He wonders if he’s hearing right. Have they really gone from discussing the things he’d need to hear to some party?

“....three days”

“...but...if it…”

“I’m sure...like we said….Ne Kraj  hotel.”

Three days...the Ne Kraj...that means...

“We’ll all be there?”

“Of course.”

Seongwoo can’t believe he’s really hearing what he thinks he’s hearing. The boss and his syndicate are attending a party in three days. They’ll be out of the mansion. This whole time they’ve been looking for a way to break in, but what if they don’t have to?

Another way has been served to him on a silver drinks tray.

“You know...it’s...terrible how…”

“There’s...nothing...can be done.”

“But the way he—“

“Hey Seongwoo, Johnny’s shift is over.”

Taeyong’s hand on his shoulder makes him almost jump. He’d forgotten that he was at work. He’d forgotten that he was just supposed to be Ong Seongwoo the barman for tonight.

“Are you sure? I could pick up some extra time?” Seongwoo responds.

He doesn’t want to leave yet. A little while ago he was more than ready to go home, but now he wants to stay. There’s more to hear here, more information being dangled in front of him, he can’t just give up now...not with everyone relying on him, even if they don’t know it.

Taeyong looks him over once, twice, it reminds Seongwoo a bit of a parent looking over a sick child.

“You don’t look so good. I think you should go home and get some rest.”

Taeyong’s words are like a switch, and Seongwoo suddenly feels the weeks worth of exhaustion and lethargy flood back into his bones.

He glances again at table four. The men are getting to their feet and Seongwoo’s heart seizes for a moment before he realises they’re heading towards the exit and not towards him.

If they’re gone, then Seongwoo has nothing to stay for.

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t feel so great.” Seongwoo nods. “I’ll head home.”

“Take care of yourself,” Taeyong tells him.

Seongwoo just nods. He can’t keep that promise, but Taeyong doesn’t know that. With a final wave, he leaves Taeyong to his work and heads out to his car to drive home.

They have a lot to talk about once he gets there.

 

* * *

 

Jisung is unceremoniously roused from sleep by a sharp knock at his bedroom door. A cursory glance at his phone tells him in glowing figures that it’s nearing five a.m.

The knock comes again.

Jisung jumps to his feet as fast as he can with his body still asleep. He opens his door to find Ong Seongwoo, dressed in all black and drenched in rain, a tight smile on his face.

“Seongwoo?” Jisung asks. “What’s wrong?”

“Good morning to you too. I’ll explain downstairs. See you there.” With that, he leaves, and Jisung blinks after him. If he’s dreaming, it’s a very strange dream. If he’s awake, it feels far less unusual.

He wonders if he’s supposed to actually get dressed before deciding it doesn’t actually count as morning yet so no, he doesn’t, and no one can call him out on it.

The living room is filled to the brim with half-awake bodies, using each other as pillows and huddling blankets around them. Seongwoo is the only person dressed in proper clothes. He’s the only one who looks some semblance of awake...actually, he looks almost too awake.

“Seongwoo, what’s going on?” Jisung tries again.

“The boss, what does he look like?” Seongwoo asks.

“...Why?” Jisung asks, sleep-haze still taking up the centre of his mind, awareness left hanging on tenterhooks at the edges.

“Because I’m pretty sure I met him.”

Awareness crashes through his mind and his whole body, waking up his muscles, synapses, nerves, and most of all his  _ fear _ .

“What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He fires the questions like a round of bullets but everyone is used to it by now.

“I’m fine. I’m not hurt, I promise.” Seongwoo breathes. “Let me explain.”

So Jisung lets him, and Seongwoo explains. The story goes on, and his fear never wavers. It’s like a flame—Seongwoo’s words stoke the fire, and neither of them know how to put it out.

The story Seongwoo spins is risk after risk. He put himself in danger, so much so that he can see the flames blaze in front of his eyes and the rope digging into his skin. These people are dangerous, Jisung knows that first hand. Seongwoo stands in front of them, unmarked, alive, dripping with rain, but Jisung can all too easily see what could have been.

He’s seen more violence in his imagination than he has in years of a life with violence around every turn. He only hopes that it stays that way.

“They’re going to a party? Or throwing one, I don’t know. But it’s in three days, at the Ne Kraj hotel. This is the way in we’ve been waiting for.” Seongwoo finishes. He finishes it with a grin, his mind communicating with his muscles to twitch his lips up, a movement only possible because he’s alive and unharmed.

_‘What if he only stays that way for another three days? What if that’s the end of the line’_ a familiar voice whispers in his head.

_‘If we don’t do something now, it could be the end for all of us, for more than all of us’_ he hisses back.

“The Ne Kraj is proud to host the annual businessman’s soiree. It will be held in our penthouse bar and restaurant...three days from now, well, two, since it’s long after midnight ...beginning at eight thirty pm,” Guanlin reads off a screen.

“Guess that’s it,” Jisung breathes, more through his teeth than anything. “Now for how we get in.”

Jisung forces himself to push his emotions as far away as possible and focus on the task at hand. The new location means that 95% of their past weeks of research has been for nothing, and he has to make up for lost time.

They have two days to devise a flawless strategy.

 

Jisung doesn’t remember that he has work that day until he’s listening to Kahi yell at him in tinny anger from the other end of the phone call. 

“I’m sorry. I really am. But I can’t come in today,” he tells her when she stops for air.

“And why is that, officer Yoon?”

Jisung tries not to panic. “...Family emergency.”

Even if she’s not happy, she can’t stop him from taking the day off, or the next two days either. Hell, he can take the whole month off if he wants. He’s been hoarding vacation days the way some people hoard clothes or money or antique ovens.

“Well, I hope it resolves itself soon. If you plan to take time off work in the future, please remember to call.” The tone is the signal she’s hung up and the signal for Jisung to breathe again.

He looks around the room to find Guanlin forging them invitations in the glare of his laptop, half of them napping, and half of them doing god knows what but at least they look like they’re busy.

Coffee. They need coffee.

In the kitchen, alone and barefoot, none of his friends in his sight, he suddenly feels like he’s lost a limb. It’s a sudden, shuddering feeling, like being dunked into ice water or the chill of someone walking over your grave running up your back. He needs them near him like he needs the air he breathes. If he can’t see them, then how can he know they’re okay, how can he even know they’re still  _ there. _

He tries not to let the feeling linger as he pours water into the pot. He’s a grown man; he can be alone for a few minutes.

But apparently, he doesn’t have to be. Not less than a second after he’s turned the coffeemaker on, a group shoves their way into the kitchen.

A group of five: Jihoon, Woojin, Jinyoung, Daehwi, and Guanlin.

Even the relief he feels at not being alone anymore can’t cover up his single, simple thought process of ‘this can’t be good.’

“Jisung.” It’s Daehwi who speaks, with as much authority as his babyface and trembling hands can pull off. “Take a seat.”

Jisung has only one guess what this may be about, and he doesn’t want to hear it, but he doesn’t want to fight, so he sits down at the kitchen table and allows them to form a semi-circle around the opposite side.

“Hear us out, okay?” Daehwi says.

Jisung nods, not sure if he’s amused or annoyed or too overwhelmed to be any one thing at all.

But he listens. At first, all he hears is one side of a familiar script, like this is a life he’s lived many times. He’s already forming his strict rebuttals in his head, wondering what can he say this time to show them that he means what he says.

“I know you think we’re just kids...and we are. But we’re kids who know what we want and know what we’re doing. Please...let us help you.”

It’s not the words that unravel him so much as it is the pure earnestness of his tone. There’s something unbelievably raw, unbelievably old, and unbelievably young that makes him realise he understands where they’re coming from.

Still, he says “You’re so young. I just want to...look after you.”

“You’ve always looked after us, Jisung. Let us look after you now.”

“I should have just adopted a puppy,” The laugh he lets out is watery. “It would have been so much simpler.”

“Probably,” Woojin shrugs. “But I don’t think it would make you as happy.”

“Yeah...yeah, you’re right.”

“Are we getting a puppy?” Guanlin asks. His hands are shaking the cup of coffee he’s holding.

“I think that depends on if we get out of this alive,” Jinyoung counters.

“Can we  _ please _ ,” Daehwi lets out a frustrated groan. “Focus on the matter at hand.”

Jisung’s eyes slip over to Jihoon, standing behind Daehwi, oddly quiet. “I know this is all your fault somehow,” Jisung tells him wryly. “Help me look out for them out there.”

“You know I will.”

“Good. Now, get back to research, before I change my mind.” They scramble back to the living room at light speed and Jisung is glad to know he still has some aura of authority around here.

So, this is what it feels like to see your kids grow up.

A bittersweet mixture of every emotion Jisung has ever felt, melting together in something huge and incomprehensible.

Coffee, he definitely needs coffee.

 

The doorbell rings at six, or maybe it’s ten, or maybe it’s the next morning. Jisung has to check his phone just to be sure—if he had an inner sense of time at any point he’s abolished it with coffee and catnaps.

It doesn’t matter what the time is, though, because it would be equally strange whether the doorbell rang at six, or ten, or the next day, or ever.

They don’t  _ have  _ visitors. They don’t even have takeout guys. Jisung didn’t even realise they had a doorbell.

The room is still, frozen at six o’clock.

“Am I hearing things? Is that it? Oh god, I’m finally going crazy.” Seongwoo rambles.

“Shhh,” Jisung tells him.

“What do we do?” Daniel whispers to him,

The doorbell rings again.

“Stay here. Don’t make a sound.” Jisung whispers, making his decision.

He gets to his feet and ignores the shocked but thankfully silent faces around him as he makes his way to the door with trepidation.

He steels himself as he reaches out for the doorknob. It twists, just once, and he opens the door just wide enough for him to see out.

He didn’t know what he expected. The boss here to take them hostage, somehow aware of what they were planning? Most likely. What he definitely isn’t expecting is to see his partner, standing there with a casserole dish in one hand and his uniform jacket draped over his elbow.

“Officer J— Sewoon?” Jisung questions, remembering at the last minute that he’s allowed to call his partner by his first name now.

“Jisung,” Sewoon greets. “I heard about your family emergency. I just thought I’d stop by and see if you’re okay.”

“Oh, uhhh, that’s nice of you,” Jisung let’s out a sigh of relief and allows the door to open a little wider.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

“Oh, my uncle suffered a heart attack last night.” He’s heard people attempt to lie their way out of heinous crimes and Guanlin attempt to lie about whose turn it is to wash the dishes. If he hasn’t picked up a thing or two by now, he’d be ashamed of himself.

“I’m so sorry,” Sewoon says, eyebrows pinched. “Is he...I mean, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He’s on life support right now. My parents are handling everything from here.” Jisung answers. He hasn’t spoken to his parents in months.

Sewoon nods sombrely. “I presume you’re not in the mood for company?”

Jisung thinks of all the work they have ahead of them and shakes his head.

“Well, take this.” Sewoon hands him the tin-foiled dish. “I’m not a great cook, but…”

“It’s the thought that counts.” Jisung finishes for him. “So nice of you to drop by. Thank you.”

Jisung closes the door and catches his breath. There’s a warmth radiating from the dish in his hand. He takes a peek under the foil. It’s a casserole.

“Who was that?” Daniel asks when he gets back to the living room, then frowns. “What’s that in your hand?”

“Friend from work. Casserole,” he breathes, exhausted. As Daniel starts to laugh, he leaves the casserole on the side and gets back to work.

 

* * *

 

Tension has wormed its way into Sungwoon’s muscles and made a home there. Just moments ago he climbed out of bed, standing in front of the window that allowed the light of day to stream in, and stretched.

Nothing.

He isn’t surprised. How can he not be tense? He woke up on what he knows is going to be the worst day of his life for so many reasons, none of which have occurred yet, but that he knows are coming because he apparently decided that this should be the worst day of his life.

“I’ll be back later,” he says, standing in the doorway of the living room.

Ten heads snap in his direction in perfect synchronization.

“Where are you going?” Daehwi asks

“To  _ college _ ? Not all of us can just skip school.”

“I don’t go to school in the first place,” Guanlin shoots back.

“I’m off sick after almost being killed by magical poisonous gas.” Jinyoung shrugs.

“What’s your excuse?” He asks Daehwi.

“I don’t have one. Have fun at school, Sungwoon!”

“Keep me updated,” he tells the room at large before disappearing.

It’s not a lie, not really, at least, that’s what he tells himself as the subway hurtles through its familiar route. He  _ is  _ going to college. He’s just not going for his classes. Besides, he’ll tell them what happened as soon as he gets home, he just didn’t want anyone trying to talk him out of it beforehand when he’s already made up his mind.

The short walk from the station to the university seems even shorter today. Time is funny like that. When you want something to happen, time will trickle by, and when you’re dreading something, it will run to meet you head on.

He checks the time: ten a.m.

His feet walk on autopilot to where he needs to be.

There’s no music streaming out of the door today. For a moment Sungwoon thinks maybe he’s not here. He doesn’t know if he’s frustrated or relieved at the idea. He doesn’t get the time to figure it out either, because the door opens in front of him.

“Well, look who it is,” Sungwoon turns to find Taehyun looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

It’s been days since he’s seen him and his first instinct is to wrap himself up in those arms and lose himself in those lips until he forgets what he came here for.

But he can’t, and even if he could, Taehyun’s expectant expression makes it clear that that wasn’t on the cards right now.

“You know I’m not clingy. I’m not trying to be clingy. But, it’s been days, Sungwoon. You haven’t been showing up to class, or meeting me at lunch, or even returning my texts,” It’s clear that he’s been waiting to talk about this, if the frustration filling his tone is any evidence. “I was worried about you. The last thing I heard from you was that your friend was in hospital. That’s not exactly calming!”

Sungwoon waits for Taehyun to catch his breath before letting out, in a pained voice, “I know. I’ll...I’ll explain I promise. Just….take a walk with me?”

He’s starting to feel closed in and cramped in this hallway, and they’d be blocking the path of any student who’d try to walk down the corridor. He doesn’t want to do this here. It doesn’t feel right...or maybe he just knows how much harder it would be to run away here.

“A walk?!” Taehyun sounds angry, but any trace of that anger is gone the next second when he breathes out. “Okay. Let’s go.”

They walk in deafening silence. Everywhere around them are students going about their usual day, with no idea of the kind of things that trouble Sungwoon and the hard decisions he’s had to make. They’re probably making some kind of noise— their murmured gossip amongst their friends or their shoes hitting the path as they rush to a class— but Sungwoon doesn’t hear any of it. The silence between him and Taehyun is so loud that it drowns anything else out.

“Is here good?”

Sungwoon gestures to a bench off to the side of the path, sat in the shade of a huge tree with leaves drooping from it in red, orange and brown. It seems like a pretty secluded area— there’s no students or staff here at the moment anyway. Mostly, he just wants to put an end to this silence as soon as possible. It was drumming up his anxiety, like being hit over and over again in the same spot until a small pain blossomed into an unbearable agony.

If he doesn’t do this now, he’s scared he’ll chicken out.

“Yeah, sure.” Taehyun shrugs and swings himself onto the bench.

Sungwoon is a lot more hesitant as he takes the seat next to him.

“So, start talking,” Taehyun says. He doesn’t sound angry now, just...defeated. Sungwoon doesn’t know which one is worse.

“I..I’m sorry I didn’t text you back. It’s just been so busy...with my friend, and everything.” It’s not really true, nobody would mind if he spared a few seconds to text back, but he didn’t know how to word a text in a way they didn’t say ‘I’m overthinking everything’.

“I understand,” Taehyun breathes. “As long as you’re okay, as long as you’re here with me.”

The words are knives that stab into Sungwoon’s heart, digging right in and twisting around, leaving it nothing but shredded pieces.

“About that,” he says. This is it, the moment of truth, the one he’s been building himself up for since he made his decision last night. The words don’t stick in his throat like he was scared they would, instead they tumble out, sick of waiting. “We need to break up.”

Time seems to slow down the minute the words are free. They’re floating in the moment of waiting for a response. Like Schrödinger’s cat, until Taehyun says something, Sungwoon has no idea what’s going to happen from here. Taehyun snaps around to face him— the look on his face tells Sungwoon everything and nothing.

“....What?” he eventually says, or maybe whispers, or maybe screams, Sungwoon isn’t sure. In the moment, it all just all feels surreal, then time catches up again and Taehyun is staring at him, looking angry and broken and confused all at once.

“I’m sorry,” Sungwoon says, and now the words stick, tacky and bitter in his throat. “I’m breaking up with you.”

Taehyun stares ahead for a few moments, and Sungwoon tries not to look at him. He’s afraid if he does, he’ll take it all back, tell Taehyun this was just a cruel joke and beg for him back if he has to. So he doesn’t look.

“Do I...do I get an explanation or?” Taehyun finally says, strained.

An explanation. The reason he’s doing this. The answers are interminable— 'Because I can never tell you who I really am', 'Because I’m up against something dangerous and I’m scared I might get hurt', 'Because I don’t want you to get hurt too'.

These are all some of the reasons that Sungwoon has been poring over in his head the last few days, like an itemised list titled 'Reasons To Break Up With Taehyun'. There was, of course, also a list called 'Reasons Not To Break Up With Taehyun', that one had only one point, but an important one:

'Because I’m in love with him.'

He can’t tell Taehyun any of this. Instead, he says “I just want to focus on school.”

Taehyun turns to him, incredulity painting his features in a way that would be comical in any other situation.

“Seriously? You’re like one of the top students in this place. And yeah, I know how hard you work, but I also try my best not to get in the way of that. What is this really about, Sungwoon?”

“It’s about school. Honestly. That’s it,” Sungwoon replies, maybe a little too fast.

Taehyun is on his feet now. “Please, at least have the decency not to lie to me.” His voice is cold. It makes Sungwoon flinch with guilt. “I mean, did I do something wrong?” Taehyun continues. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry! I’ll make it up to you!”

“It’s not about you!”

Sungwoon doesn’t know when he got to his feet too, or when they both started yelling. Time is spinning around them, turning on its axis, travelling all wrong. Nothing is happening the way it should be. He thought it would be as easy as saying the words, he didn’t expect that to only be half the battle, he didn’t expect Taehyun to fight against him— he didn’t expect him to care this much.

“Then what is it?” Taehyun sounds exhausted, like he’d just ran a marathon, or climbed a mountain, or had his heart broken. “Is it about your friends? Is it about  _ my _ friends? ...Is it...Is it about that guy from high school?”

Time stops. Sungwoon freezes with it. There’s a coarse, ugly feeling in his heart. A mix of hurt and anger and  _ betrayal _ . He’d told Taehyun about the guy who’d pretended to love him for some meaningless bet, and how it had made him struggle with dating for a long, long time after. It had been a hushed conversation, months and months into their friendship, a few drinks in but not enough at the same time. He hates that it’s being brought up now, feels like it’s being thrown in his face at the worst possible time, a time where everything else already hurts. That isn’t fair, he knows, but right now, he doesn’t care. He just wants this conversation over. He’s tired of it dragging on longer than it needs to be, longer than he can handle.

“Maybe I just don’t like you, did you ever think of that?!”

Taehyun goes rigid. He opens his mouth, closes it again, tight enough that Sungwoon can see the muscle of his jaw tensing. It’s silent for a while, it could be a second, it could be a lifetime.

Eventually, Taehyun says, more breath than actual words. “Yeah, Okay.” He nods to himself, and all the fight goes out of his body. “Well, goodbye, Sungwoon. I...I hope this makes you happy.”

He walks away, and Sungwoon doesn’t move. He just stands there, feet stuck to the ground, watching as his life seems to fall apart around him. Eventually, he collapses back on to the bench, and cries.

 

_ Sungwoon sighed as he felt the first drops of rain. He’d missed his subway that morning, thanks to some annoying ass attempted home invasion over the other end of town at midnight— seriously, did criminals have no respect for other peoples’ schedules? As a result, he was late for his first class. He’d bundled in, twenty minutes late and sweat-drenched from running,  only to realise that he’d left the textbook he needed at home.  _

_ And now, it was raining. Great. Fucking Perfect. The cherry on top of his shitty day. _

_ The rain turned from a light drizzle to a torrential downpour right before his eyes and he bit out a curse before dragging his too thin jacket off of his body and draping it over his hair. He had class in twenty minutes. Too soon to go back home and wait out the room, not soon enough that he could bear to hang around outside until his professor showed up and opened the door. _

_ A little bit in the distance, obscured by the glitter of the raindrops, deceptively pretty for something out to ruin his day, he spotted a pathway with a roof held up by pillars. At least that could keep the rain off him for a while without him having to sacrifice his jacket. _

_ He made a run for it. _

_ It was thirty seconds of uncomfortableness ending in his back leant against cool concrete and a couple of deep breaths because he was cold and maybe not quite as fit as he could be. He leaned back, eyes closed, neck bared, and allowed himself to wallow in his terrible luck for a moment. _

_ “Rough day?” A voice asked. _

_ Sungwoon opened his eyes slowly. It took him a moment to locate the source of the voice still, but when he did he wasn’t sure how he missed it. _

_ There was a boy sat against the pillar right in front of him, legs sprawled out. A gray hood, spotted with rain, covered his hair. His shit-eating grin held a lit cigarette. _

_ Sungwoon just glared. “Smoking is bad for you, you know?” _

_ The boy laughed at that, a discomfiting spot of brightness in this overcast day. “You don’t say.” He held the cigarette, now plucked between two fingers, up in the air. “Want one?” _

_ Sungwoon was supposed to be quitting. _

_ “Yeah, sure,” he said, because he had a terrible day and anything that could help take the edge off was welcome, fuck the consequences. _

_ He took a cigarette from the slightly crumpled pack the boy held out,and then the cheap plastic lighter. Acrid smoke filled his lungs. The rain outside continued to fall. He didn’t feel any better. He closed his eyes again and took another drag. _

_ “You never answered my question,” the boy said after a few moments. _

_ Sungwoon exhaled, watching the smoke float up into the air before dispersing like it was never there at all. “I know. I didn’t want to.” _

_ The boy laughed again. “What’s your name, then?” _

_ “Sungwoon. Why do you care?” _

_ “Taehyun. Because you’re cute.” _

_ Sungwoon snorted. “I’m not as easy as five seconds of conversation and one cigarette.” _

_ “Didn’t think you were,” came the response. There was something soft in it now, easy humour replaced with...Sungwoon almost wanted to say reverence, but that couldn’t be right. _

_ He opened his eyes again and took another look at the boy sat across from him— Taehyun, his mind supplied— Sungwoon’s cigarette burned down to the filter without him noticing. The rain poured around them. Time moved, but it felt still and insignificant in whatever little bubble they’d built. _

_ “You really shouldn’t smoke, you know,” Sungwoon said, getting up to leave. It would nearly be time for his class now, and he felt strange and significant here. _

_ Taehyun’s grin fell back into place. “I’ll quit when you do.” _

_ Sungwoon let out a breath. “You say that like you’ll see me again.” _

_ “Will I?” _

_ Sungwoon couldn’t help the small, wry smile that made its way onto his face. “Maybe.” _

_ Taehyun grinned even wider. “I’ll hold you to that.” _

_ Sungwoon headed for class in a much better mood than he had been in twenty minutes ago. It was the cigarette, he told himself, as he resisted the urge to roll the name “Taehyun” off his tongue just to see if it tasted like smoke and rain and something he could only imagine. _

 

 

* * *

 

“Don’t you think you should save some of that energy?”

Jihoon barely hears the voice over the thud of his fists hitting the punching bag over and over again. He lets his arms fall back to his side, just now registering the deep ache in them and the sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Seongwoo, it’s you,” he says, eyeing the boy leaning in the doorway of the training room.

“Yep, me.” He waves, walking into the room. “Why? Expecting someone else?”

Was he expecting someone else? No. Was he hoping for someone else? ….No, he tells himself.

“I have plenty of energy. Don’t worry. I’ll be just fine for tonight,” he says instead.

Seongwoo lowers himself onto the sofa on the other side of the room and sends him a pointed look. “There’s no point in lying to me, you know?”

“I’m not lying. I’m not tired,” Jihoon responds with a shrug.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

Jihoon meets Seongwoo’s eyes. It’s a staredown of sorts, but it’s half-hearted. Seongwoo knows what he knows, because even Jihoon can’t hide his emotions from someone who can see them like everyone else sees colours or fireworks or anything else visible that’s the naked eye.

“Now isn’t the time, Seongwoo,” he says instead.

Seongwoo nods, but Jihoon can tell this isn’t over. It’s a “we’ll talk later”.

“I came to find you. We’re going over the plan downstairs,” Seongwoo tells him.

Jihoon nods. “I’ll be there in a second.”

Seongwoo leaves and Jihoon takes the spot on the sofa he just vacated. With his head in his hands, he takes deep breaths. Tonight’s the night they go confront the boss. He needs to focus on that, focus on being prepared and getting them all out of there unharmed. Now isn’t the time to think about...anything else. He needs to lock that away and think about what’s important right now.

It’s harder than it should be. Why is it always him? Ever since the start he’s been consuming Jihoon’s thoughts and making it hard to focus on anything else. And now...now even if he manages to focus for a while his brain ends up turning back to the feelings of lips against his and everything that comes with it.

‘ _ Stop thinking about it, Jihoon,’  _ he tells himself again.

He gets up and heads downstairs with determination. He can do this.

Jihoon is used to the sight of the living room brimming with life more now than he ever has been, but today it’s different. The pervasive exhaustion from the last few days is gone, replaced by something stronger, something bigger, something older.

Fear.

They’re scared. Jihoon can see it in the way they hold themselves, the way they fiddle with whatever they’re holding without purpose, the way they inhale and exhale.

But they’re here, and that means more than fear ever will.

Jisung claps once, dragging all their attention to him.

“Okay, we have-” he stops to check his watch. “Two hours until the party starts. Is everything in order?”

“Invitations all printed.” Guanlin waves a stack of paper in his hand.

“Clothes acquired,” Daehwi says brightly.

“Escape routes mapped.” Minhyun taps a slow beat on the tablet he’s holding. “We might have to make some last minute altercations to our positions depending on where the boss is in the room, but I think we’ve got it covered.”

“Okay.” Jisung nods. “Meet here again in an hour. We’ll go over this again in the car, then we’ll get there a little early and double check the place from outside for anything we may have missed.”

“And until then?”

“Take care of yourselves.”

People start to disperse, but in truth Jihoon doesn’t know what to do with the hour afforded to him. The past few days have been nothing but planning broken up by fitful sleep. Free time seems like an alien concept.

First, he takes a brief shower. It gets rid of the tacky layer of sweat that was clinging to him and loosens up his tightly knotted muscles.

Second, he gets a smoothie. Just the idea of real food sits heavy in his stomach, but he knows he needs  _ something _ .

Third, he doesn’t have to think of something else to fill his time, because he’s dragged away and sat down in the bathroom by Daehwi.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

Daehwi rolls his eyes. “I’m doing your hair, obviously. This is a fancy as hell party. A suit isn’t going to cut it, if the rest of you looks like this is the first time you’ve left the house in a week.”

“I  _ haven’t  _ left the house in a week,” Jihoon argues.

“And that’s why we’re fixing it!” Daehwi replies, seemingly nonplussed.

Jihoon sighs and leans back, letting Daehwi run wild with the collection of sinister looking tubs and bottles set up over the washbasin. It would almost be relaxing if he could just shut his brain off, but he can’t, and it quickly turns back to its latest favourite subject: Woojin.

The most pathetic thing is that the time between leaving the training room and entering the bathroom without thinking of him was probably a record.

“Okay, you’re all done,” Daehwi says.

Jihoon goes to turn towards the mirror, but Daehwi’s hand stops him. “Uh-uh, not yet. Go put your suit on first. You need the full effect.”

Jihoon sighs but does as he’s told and takes the suit Daehwi hands him, hidden in a black clothing bag. He takes it to his room and gets dressed. It’s all going well until he reaches the tie.

He notes his hair in the mirror as he uses it to attempt to tie the infuriating knot. It’s not as different as he was expecting with the huge amount of product Daehwi used, but it’s pushed back off his forehead and he takes a second to look at it. He’s never worn his hair like this before. It looks...not bad.

Back to his tie, the silk slips through his fingers again and he lets out a groan of frustration.

“Do you...uhhh...can I help?”

_ “Were you expecting someone else?” _

No, but he was hoping.

He was hoping for  _ this _ voice.

He turns to look at the door and the breath is stolen from his lungs.Woojin is standing in his doorway wearing a deep red suit, with a black shirt and a (tied) tie. His hair is a little tousled. He’s awkwardly ringing his hands and looks about ready to bolt and that’s when Jihoon realises he still hasn’t replied.

“You know how to tie ties?” is what he ends up saying.

Woojin shrugs, walking further into the room until he’s stood right in front of Jihoon. “Donghyun taught me. It was our foster mom’s brother’s wedding or something. Do you want me to...?” He’s running the tie still hung around Jihoon’s neck through his fingers now and all Jihoon can do is gulp a nod.

Woojin’s face is right in front of his. Jihoon can see the golden expanse of his skin in perfect detail, the light shimmer that always seems to be present in his eyes, and most of all he can see the soft, delicate cupid bow of his lips as they form words.

“So...I guess we should talk.”

Jihoon is still watching his lips and his hands are warm and so, so distracting where they brush Jihoon’s neck. Still, the words reach the logical part of his mind eventually and he stiffens. Woojin must feel it, because his hands still on the tie.

“What about?” Jihoon asks, though he knows, and doesn’t know if he wants to hear it.

A beat of silence, and then Woojin saying, quietly yet factually “We kissed.”

_ Kissed. Kissed. Kissed.  _ It sounds...strange, a moment of wonder laid out in simple terms. It also almost makes Jihoon’s cheeks flush, but he manages to push it down.

He doesn’t say anything in response.

“And you haven’t spoken to me since,” Woojin continues.

Still, Jihoon says nothing.

Woojin sighs. “Do you not like me? If not, it’s okay, Jihoon. It’s okay, and I’ll be sorry for kissing you if you didn’t really want it, and I’ll be sorry for making things awkward. But...if you don’t like me...please just tell me...because at this point I think hoping is going to hurt me even more than the truth.”

“It’s...it’s not that,” Jihoon says quickly. He’s not thinking before he speaks. He just knows he doesn’t want to see that look on Woojin’s face anymore.

“Then what is it, Jihoon?” Woojin asks, calm, patient. More patient than Jihoon feels like he deserves at this point.

“It’s….” Jihoon trails off, then starts again, arms crossed. “I’ve never done this before.”

Woojin blinks. “You’ve never done...what...before?”

“Had a relationship. Kissed someone…. _ liked  _ someone like...I’ve never had the kind of feelings I have for you before.”

“...Never?” Woojin asks, stepping closer, so there’s so little room between them that their chests are brushing and Woojin’s breath fans across his lips.

Jihoon nods, not trusting himself to talk.

Woojin breathes out again.”Well, that’s okay. Because...I’ve never felt this way about someone either. Not like this. Not so...It’s as if I was always meant to find you. It’s...it’s so much...but it feels  _ right. I _ feel right....I don’t know, I’m probably not making sense.”

“No.” Jihoon shakes his head. His nose brushes Woojin’s as he does so. “No. It makes perfect sense.”

And it does. This whole time, Jihoon has felt like he can’t control himself around Woojin. He despised it, at first, he hated it and he ended up unfairly blaming that on Woojin. But, he’s started to realise, maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe he doesn’t need to be in control all the time. Maybe...maybe sometimes he can just allow himself to simply  _ be _ .

“Jihoon...I don’t know what this is...but...I want to—”

A knock at the door breaks the spell they had fallen into. Jihoon steps back, just slightly, averting his gaze from Woojin’s face for what feels like the first time in an eternity. He sees his bedroom around him instead, and it brings him crashing back to reality.

“The cars are almost here. Meet us downstairs.” Jinyoung’s voice comes from outside.

Right. The plan. The party. The boss. All things that are waiting for them when they walk out the door. All things that he promised himself he wouldn’t even think of Woojin until after they were done.

He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind of the past few...has it really only been minutes since Woojin showed up at his door?

“I’ll be right there,” He shouts to Jinyoung.

“Cool. Oh, hey, you haven’t seen Woojin have you?”

Jihoon tries not to flush again and shoots a scrutinising glance at the boy still standing in his bedroom.

“Nope. But don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll show up.”

“Well, if you see him tell him to come downstairs.”

He doesn’t know why he holds his breath until he can’t hear Jinyoung’s footsteps anymore. It’s not like he’s hiding anything, not really. But this...whatever this is, it’s not even the time to think about it, never mind talk about it to someone else.

Once the footsteps are finally gone, he starts heading towards the door, only for Woojin to tell him to stop. He pauses, half turns so he can see Woojin standing there. He’s ready to tell him to leave it, that they’ll talk about this another time, but all Woojin says is “I never tied your tie.”

“Oh,” he breathes.

Woojin moves over to him faster than Jihoon can protest and fastens the tie in a few deft movements. His hands are still resting on Jihoon’s chest and Jihoon still isn’t breathing when he says “Good luck out there. Protect your family.”

Jihoon gives in to what he wants for a moment, allows himself to just be, and rests his forehead on Woojin’s.

“You’re my family too.”

When he leans back again, Woojin’s smile is no less than blinding.

“See you down there,” Woojin says.

“Yeah.” Jihoon nods.

He turns away and walks out the door. He knows that he’s heading for something terrifying, but he doesn’t feel afraid, and for once it’s not just because he’s forcing himself not to.


	15. Chapter 15

“Go on in.”

Minhyun takes his invitation back from the guard who just checked it. He doesn’t doubt Guanlin’s skills, but nerves had started thrumming through him when he had handed over the invitation he knows damn well is fake. Thankfully, Guanlin had done a more than convincing enough job and they’re being granted entrance to the party with no problem.

Minhyun waits for everyone to get their invitations handed back with the guard’s stamp of approval. All that’s left now is to go through the double doors standing ahead of them.

“Everyone ready?” He asks.

Jisung isn’t with them right now, and he finds himself taking the lead instead. They had no choice but to split up for this plan. Daniel, Jaehwan, Seongwoo and himself were the ones actually attending the party. The others were over waiting in a café across the street— Jisung being left behind since the boss and at least some of his cronies know what he looks like, the others left behind because they were likely too young to pass as active workers in the business industry. Sungwoon could have come with them, but he’d chosen to stay behind. (‘I just...don’t think I’d be a very good actor right now’ he had said, and no one pushed him, after the news of his break-up). Better safe than sorry.

They have their own parts to play. This is just step one of the plan. Hopefully, they don’t mess it up, because if they do, they can’t just move on to the next step. The plan is lined up like dominos, if one step falls, the rest will follow.

“We’re ready,” Daniel answers.

Minhyun takes a deep breath.

“Let’s go.”

He pushes open the doors.

The hallway was nice, but the ballroom is like opening the door to another world. It’s all white walls and floors, red sofas and chairs. It’s strategically designed to exude the most modern form of luxury. There are lights built into the ceiling, illuminating the area so that it’s impossible to hide himself in the shadows. The bar stands at one end of the room, white with a red top. Alcohol lines the wall behind it on glass shelves. There’s no patrons on the stools though, everyone instead walking around the room or lounging on the sofas, champagne glasses held precariously in their hands like they don’t have a care in the world.

“Are you in?” A voice in his ear distracts him from his thoughts.

Splitting up, while being the only option, still wasn’t ideal, so they’d devised a way to stay in contact. Before they’d left the house, Guanlin had fitted them all with earpieces and microphones. The microphones are tiny, barely even visible to Minhyun though he knows it’s sitting on the lapel of his suit jacket. The earpieces aren’t quite as inconspicuous, but hopefully even if they’re noticed no one will question them.

“Yeah, we’re in.” He looks at Seongwoo as he says it. He doesn’t want to attract attention for talking to thin air, and Seongwoo knows who he’s really talking to since he would have heard it in his own earpiece.

“Okay,” Jisung continues. “Remember, all you have to do is blend in and keep an eye out. If we see anyone from the crime mob, me or Woojin will tell you. Be wary of them, but keep an eye on them if you can.”

Guanlin hacked into the hotels security cameras and is watching everything from his laptop in the cafe, so everyone there can see what happens here. Thank god they have Guanlin, or Woojin or Jisung would have had to walk into the lion’s den themselves so the rest of them wouldn’t be heading in blind.

Minhyun nods, before remembering that Jisung can’t see him, and instead he murmurs his acknowledgement before the line goes silent.

“Oooh, hors’ d'oeuvres,” Daniel says, immediately heading for the buffet table spread out.

Everyone goes to follow him. Of all of them, Daniel is probably one of the only ones who knows how to act natural in a setting like this. He’s briefly mentioned how his mother always liked to throw galas and dinner parties and drag him into the festivities. He’s, of course, also mentioned how much he despised it, but it’s better than nothing.

The buffet table is well-stocked and aesthetically pleasing, but  Minhyun’s appetite is non-existent. His stomach is churning in a way that keeps him alert, on edge, and more than anything, anxious. The man they’re looking for, the man who once had Jisung tortured, (the man who might have something to do with Jonghyun’s disappearance), could walk in at any moment...if he isn’t already here.

“Anyone suspicious?” Minhyun asks, after pressing the button on his earpiece that turns his mic on.

The response is instant. “That girl standing by the door.”

It doesn’t take Minhyun long to notice the person Woojin is talking about. There’s a young woman stood by the door they came through, separating herself from the party, just...watching.

“Her name is Soyeon,” Woojin provides. “She carries throwing knives and her power is never missing a target. The boss sends her to scout out places a lot. She’s no danger as long as she doesn’t know what you’re here to do.”

Minhyun lets Woojin’s words sink in and averts his eyes from the girl before she notices him staring.

“Got it,” he says. “Thanks.”

If she’s the only person here that Woojin notices, that means the boss himself is still out there somewhere.

It means they have nothing to do but wait.

Easy jazz flows from the speakers overhead. Conversation and laughter floats around them. Minhyun tunes it all out. If the crime mob aren’t here yet then there’s nothing worth eavesdropping on. He relocates to the bar, starting to think that hanging out around the buffet table without actually touching any of the food is not only pointless but possibly suspicious. Seongwoo follows him, taking the stool next to him. He’d asked the others if they wanted to follow them too, but they’d seemed happy snacking and Seongwoo hadn’t pushed it, leaving just the two of them.

Minhyun doesn’t order anything. All Seongwoo asks the barman for is a glass of water that’s quickly delivered. After that, they sit in silence for a few moments before Seongwoo decides to speak up.

“Can it really be this easy?”

“Huh?” Minhyun blinks.

Seongwoo takes a moment, sorting through his words, before he speaks again.

“Okay, maybe easy isn’t the right word but...I just mean..it’s so soon? We only found out what even happened two weeks ago, it hasn’t even been a month since what happened happened. Now, we suddenly have all our answers and are about to confront the person who did it? It just seems...convenient.”

Minhyun blinks again. He understands what Seongwoo means. It feels like everything has happened so fast. He’s just not sure what  _ that  _ means.

“What are you getting at?”

“I’m kind of scared I’ve walked us straight into a trap.” Seongwoo sighs. “But does that even make sense? As far as we’re aware, these guys have no idea who I am or what I look like.”

“It would be pretty elaborate too. They don’t seem like the subtle type when they want something,” Minhyun adds, thinking back to the way they’d kidnapped Jisung right in front of him.

“Yeah.” Seongwoo nods, half in consideration and half in agreement. “But still...there’s some feeling I can’t shake…”

He trails off, and Minhyun doesn’t know what to say. He’s reminded of his most recent vision again, and he knows with a sickening certainty that, no matter what Seongwoo thinks, this isn’t going to be easy. Somewhere down the line, something horrifying is waiting for them. Is that what’s in store for them tonight? Or is it coming later? There’s no way to tell when it's supposed to come to pass, other than the fact that as far as Minhyun could tell they weren’t noticeably older.

“It might be nothing,” Minhyun offers. “It could just be your anxiety playing tricks on you.” Seongwoo may not look nervous, but he has to be. Minhyun is. Maybe he’s actually trying to comfort himself. He honestly isn’t sure.

“Yeah, maybe,” Seongwoo doesn’t seem like he’s very reassured, but before Minhyun can say anything more, there’s a different voice in his ear.

“They’re here.”

Minhyun swivels towards the doorway before he even realises he’s done it.

There’s a group of people standing there. One man stands in the middle, in a suit, head held high, looking like the president surrounded by bodyguards. Minhyun had been expecting the boss himself, and maybe a couple of other people, but there’s about ten people following behind him and flanking his sides. This must be the whole mob, or at least a significant portion of it.

He tries not to look alarmed. He does nothing as he waits for Woojin to start talking again, for some kind of explanation, or hint that they’re moving onto the next step of the plan, but when Woojin speaks again, all Minhyun hears is a broken sounding  _ ‘Sihoon.’ _

“...What?”

“Uhh...It’s nothing.” Minhyun can practically hear Woojin shaking his head, but his still shaky voice betrays how he must really be feeling. Minhyun wants to ask, but he knows now isn’t the time.

“Okay. So, we give them a while to settle in, just so that it’s not too obvious that they’re the reason. Then, we’ll proceed with step two.”

Minhyun has nothing to do with step two of the plan. It’s execution relies entirely on those over at the cafe, so once again, he has nothing to do but sit here and wait.

There’s something torturous about it, just waiting, alert and full of uncertainty. He wishes he could just rip the bandaid off and get it over with, but at the same time he wishes that the future will never come. It doesn’t really matter what he wants, because he has no control over either of those things. For now, all he can do is trust in his friends.

 

* * *

 

“He’s...shorter than I expected.” Sungwoon muses, referring to the boss.

Jisung shoots him a look that says  _ ‘Is this really the time?’ _ . Guanlin shoots him a look that says  _ ‘Rich coming from you, shortass.’.  _ Sungwoon shoots them both a look that says  _ ‘Just an observation, jeez.’ _

Out loud, Jisung says “Time for phase two, then.”

Phase two is this: Clear out the room. They don’t yet know how confronting the boss is going to go down, but they know it probably won’t be pretty, and probably won’t be subtle. They can’t do it in a room full of party-goers. It risks them either getting hurt or learning too much, or both.

They could get the boss out of there, but that could backfire if he realises what is going on. It seems safer, if more work, to get everybody else out instead.

It’s just a couple of dozen people...how hard can it be?

“So what’s the plan again?” Jinyoung asks, nervousness clear.

“The plan is that me and Sungwoon,” he gestured between them.“Go into the hotel and  _ I  _ cut the whole buildings power while he stands guard.”

“And cutting the power will definitely get people to leave? We’re sure?” Jinyoung asks.

Guanlin nods. “It was on the staff personnel website. They won’t  _ evacuate _ people, but any events are immediately halted and guests lead back to their room.”

Jinyoung nods.

“Okay, let’s go.” Sungwoon swallows down his nerves and stands up from his chair.

Guanlin follows. They both nod at everyone as they leave, knowing they won’t see them again for a good few minutes, and make their way out from the warm café to the chilly street in silence.

After crossing the street, glass doors stand before them, and Guanlin doesn’t let himself hesitate before pushing them open and entering the large, fancy lobby.

There’s a receptionist behind the desk, but he pays them no mind. He’s probably long dead inside from working here.

“You know where we’re going?” Sungwoon asks, hushed.

Guanlin nods and holds a finger to his lips as they make their way past the desk and through the door that says ‘staff only,’

They’re greeted by a room that holds a sofa, a busted coffee machine, and more doors— all labelled for the staff and workmen's convenience. Guanlin heads towards the one that says ‘maintenance’, Sungwoon following behind him. It leads to a poorly lit basement down a short flight of concrete steps. The room itself is tiny, barely deserving to be called a room, it’s more in line with the size of an alleyway. Along the wall, there’s multiple sets of levers, switches, and blinking boxes.

“This is it,” Guanlin says to himself, then turns to Sungwoon and says, “You wait outside, if anyone comes by here just…” Guanlin trails off, already focusing on the next step instead.

“Got it,” Sungwoon says, stepping back from the doorway and letting Guanlin step forward, door falling shut behind him.

The room is plunged into something that can neither be called dark nor lit. It’s shadow. Guanlin blinks, trying to help his eyes adjust, before taking the few steps it takes to reach the basement itself.

He trails the tips of his fingers along the wall as he observes  everything lining it. Whoever manages this place hadn’t gone to the effort of labelling any of the levers, switches, or boxes, but that doesn’t matter.

He lets his hand hover on each one— air conditioning, then heating, then something to do with the water he doesn’t linger on long enough to catch, until, finally, he finds it:

_ Electricity. _

It’s an unassuming metal box, dials dotted along the front and heavy switches underneath. He lets himself focus on it, letting the machine speak instead of merely whisper.

_ Tell me how to switch you off safely,  _ he thinks.

It does, thinking far faster than him, faster than any human could. All the knowledge he needs is fed into his brain before he even realises he’s finished his question.

The middle switch at the bottom. Emergency shutdown. It will shut down electricity to the entire building.

He reaches for it, then hesitates. It’s suddenly nerve-wracking, being down here alone, nothing but the shadows that are closing in on him— the shadows that won’t exist in a moment, because it will be nothing but the pure absence of light until the emergency lights switch on.

Alone down here, he suddenly finds himself wondering if he’s doing the right thing. Their plan has so many risks, so many variables, they know that. They only had two days to plan for an unexpected situation and an unfamiliar atmosphere. Even if they had more time, they’d never done anything like this before. They didn’t take over hotel penthouses and take care of the bad guys single-handedly. They halted robberies long enough for the police to get there, or stepped in on street brawls that were getting out of hand, but nothing like  _ this _ . It was never meant to be like this, it was just meant to be them, together, learning how to control the powers they still didn’t know why they had, and doing the little bit of good they could on the side.

But here they are. Here he is. This is what they have to do. When Guanlin pulls the switch, in the moment before he’s plunged into black, it honestly feels pretty good.

 

* * *

 

From his spot at the cafe table, Woojin can see the lights in the hotel lobby go off across the street. This is their signal. Finally, he can move from this table. He can join his friends. He can—

Seeing Sihoon’s face on the monitor has shook him to his core more than he wants to admit. Woojin wasn’t expecting it, he was expecting the boss, he was expecting his two usual righthand-men, but he wasn’t expecting Sihoon.

He hasn’t thought about Sihoon in so long, even when his mind has been forced to float back to the mansion, Sihoon has been conspicuously absent. Had he really forgotten? Or was his mind just protecting him? Either way, once he saw him, it was all he could see. He could smell the motorcycle exhaust fumes, taste the beer on his tongue, feel the pressure of Sihoon’s mouth on his.

It made him feel sick.

Then the phantom pressure against his lips was taken over by the memory of another, softer pair. Then a similar pressure against his forehead, skin touching skin, innocent but more important than any kiss or touch he shared with the boy standing in the doorway on those security cameras.

A whisper of  _ ‘You’re my family too.’ _

Woojin’s fear had melted away. He’d realised that he didn’t have to be afraid anymore. He’d realised that that Woojin, alone and afraid yet desperate for any scrap of toxic affection, was in the past.

Keeping this at the front of his mind, he gets up and strides to the other side of the street, knowing his friends are both behind and ahead of him.

There’s a receptionist at the desk, like he’d known there would be, but he’s busy yelling something into his walkie-talkie and they use that and the new cover of darkness to slip past him and into the hallway and out of his line of sight.

“We’re in position,” Woojin says, and Guanlin’s response comes through instantly. “On my way.”

A second later, Guanlin and Sungwoon come rushing through the door.

“Everything good?” Woojin asks, though he’s pretty sure if it isn’t then they wouldn’t be here.

They both nod, a little out of breath— probably from the short run to get past the receptionist and the tension of the whole situation.

“Inoming in,” Guanlin holds up his hand and puts down a finger for each number he calls. “5,4,3,2...1,”

Minhyun’s voice booms loud and clear in their earpieces. “Someone just showed up asking for us all to leave. They’ll be forming orderly lines and ushering people back to their rooms.”

Woojin can’t help but let out a small sigh of relief. So far, their plan is going off without a hitch. Sure, they were, objectively, the two easiest parts, but it’s still comforting.

“I think they’re— the mob— they’re hesitating. They seem to be hanging back and talking among themselves.”

Even though this is part of the plan, Minhyun still sounds worried. Of course, no normal business man or woman is going to think a blackout is anything sinister. But the mob  _ are  _ sinister. It’s in their nature to get suspicious of things like this, and hopefully, that means they’ll be in no rush to leave.

“Are the rest leaving ?” Sungwoon asks.

“Yeah,” Minhyun responds. “Slowly, but it’s happening.”

“Okay,” Sungwoon says. “Keep an eye on the boss. If he stays, call us up. If he tries to leave, warn us and we’ll block his path.”

Minhyun says he will, and then they’re alone again. Woojin honestly wishes he could have gone up there with them. This waiting has been worse than anything that could happen up there. He’d even tried to suggest that he be part of the group that headed upstairs, but he’d quickly been shot down for both his own safety and the plans.

He’s bouncing on his heels, full of nervous energy. Seconds stretch into minutes, and there’s no word through their earpieces. He starts to worry. What if something went wrong? What if his friends are already hurt? And he wasn’t there to help? Can they truly understand what the crime mob is capable of? Does Woojin even understand? Was six months enough for him to understand all the damage they could do?

He’s worked himself into a state of paranoia. He knows he’s been paranoid. But is it really paranoia if the things he’s worried about could easily have happened?

He’s about to run upstairs, plan be damned, when Minhyun’s voice finally,  _ finally _ comes through the speaker.

“Everyone’s gone but them and us. Come upstairs. Quickly.”

Woojin doesn’t need to be told twice.

He runs as fast as he can. It takes him a second to remember that that’s  _ too  _ fast, and in that second he’s already left his friends a good ten flights behind him. He shouts a quick ‘Sorry’ down to them. They don’t seem to blame him when they catch up, and they climb the last flights together.

Then they’re on the top floor, and the doors to the ballroom are standing straight in front of them.

Woojin’s past is behind that door. Woojin’s  _ future  _ is behind that door. When he leaves that room, he’s going to leave the past behind.

That’s the thought that gives him the strength to push open the door.

They clearly came at just the right time. His friends are standing on one side of the room, the crime mob on the other.

Chaeyeon is in the middle of saying “And why exactly are you hanging around here?” When, at once, everyone looks towards the door.

Woojin feels like apologising, suddenly, like interrupting them wasn’t completely what he intended to do. He pushes the urge down and goes to stand by his friends instead, everyone else following behind them. He stares at the mob, an expression on his face that lets them know exactly whose side he’s on.

“Woojin,” the boss is speaking now. He doesn’t sound surprised, not exactly, but he doesn’t sound as in control as he usually does either.

“The kid who ran away?” A boy—Woojin doesn’t remember his name—whispers.

His question is ignored. The boss scans his eyes over the people stood in front of instead, settling back on Woojin in the end.

“I have to be honest. I didn’t expect to see you again,” He says, but he doesn’t sound bothered. If anything, he sounds amused. “And...what exactly is all...this?” He gestures along the line of Woojin and his friends.

“We’re here to stop you,” Jisung says.

The boss sighs. “That’s what I was afraid of. Well, I guess I have no choice now…”

The mob is running for them before Woojin can even register it.

There’s a searing pain down one side of his cheek. He rears back, blinking in response to the pain.

When he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Chaeyeon in front of him, smirking. Whatever just happened to him, she’s the one who did it.

The second thing he sees is chaos.

There’s bodies moving everywhere, punching, kicking, falling. He can see things he doesn’t have time to comprehend that must be the result of peoples powers— beams of light and roaring fires and things he can’t even recognise. It’s mayhem, made even more threatening and confusing with the emergency lights painting the whole room a threatening shade of red.

Out of the corner, he sees Chaeyeon lunge for him again.

He runs.

He doesn’t know where he’s going. The room isn’t that big, it’s crowded, everyone is everywhere and between the lack of light and how fast he’s going he’s lost.

He’s hit by elbows, fists, something blunt and too heavy to be a person. He doesn’t know if they’re aiming for him or if he’s just getting caught in the fray, but either way he doesn’t stop.

A harsh, electric shock takes over his whole body.

He crumples to the floor, groaning, not that he can hear himself over the sound of the fight going on around him. It doesn’t hurt when he lands, that might be good, it might just be because he’s already in too much pain for any of it to register.

When his limbs stop twitching and he finally feels in control of his body again, he pushes himself to his feet. He tries to run, but finds himself only able to walk. He can’t even run normally, never mind use his power. His nerves and muscles scream with exhaustion and it holds him back no matter how hard he’s trying to push through it.

A figure moves in front of him in a single, purposeful movement.

“Hey, babe. Long time, no see.”

Woojin knows that smug, sickening voice too well.

“Sihoon.” He grits out.

“Aw, you didn’t forget me after all! Well, how could you...I  _ am  _ your boyfriend.”

Woojin feels something rush through him, giving him strength. At first he thinks it must be adrenaline. But then he realises, no, it’s the pure, unadulterated desire to fight back.

He charges at Sihoon, knocking straight into him. They both fall to the floor.

Sihoon’s body turns to nothing beneath him, leaving Woojin to collapse on the ground.

“Didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Sihoon’s voice comes from behind him, dripping with faux-sympathy.

Woojin turns, lost and confused in the hecticness of it all. Someone knocks into him from behind, and he stumbles, but he barely notices it, eyes locked on Sihoon.

Right. His power. He can create clones of himself. How could Woojin forget?

The Sihoon in front of him (Is it the real one? There’s no way to tell, and even if there was, all of Woojin’s senses feel like they’re in overload, taking in nothing and everything at the same time) takes a step forward, getting closer to Woojin than he ever thought he would be again.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if you did, after all- “ Suddenly, he’s encircled by copy after copy of Sihoon, and they all speak in unison. “You never were that smart.”

Woojin shivers. His face hurts, his whole body hurts, he hurts because he’s reminded of every awful thing Sihoon has ever said to him.

“Woojin, are you okay?”

He doesn’t know who shouts it. He doesn’t even know if he really heard it, or if his brain is making up things in the cacophony of noise around him. None of that matters.

“You know,” Woojin says. He doubts he looks strong right now, clutching his body, barely standing, but he puts whatever strength he has into his voice. “You can say whatever you want to me. I know you’re nothing but a fucking liar.”

“Oh yeah?” Sihoon smirks. “And what makes you think that? What exactly did I lie to you about?”

“Easy.” Woojin feels a smirk of his own tugging at the corner of his lips. “You said that you’re the only person who will ever care about me.”

Woojin spins, kicking every clone surrounding him in one swift movement. They all drop to the ground, but there’s only one lying there after a second passes.

Sihoon— the real one— sneers at him from the ground.

Woojin drops too, his legs protesting to the rough treatment he just put them through. But he feels stronger than he ever has.

“By the way,” he tells Sihoon “You are  _ not  _ my fucking boyfriend.”

 

* * *

 

Jaehwan can feel the bruise blooming on his arm even as he throws another punch. His opponent blocks it, but at this point Jaehwan is expecting that. Whoever the guy in front of him is, he seems to be able to sense whatever move Jaehwan is going to make and counteract it.

He’s lost all sense of time but he knows he’s been fighting this guy for way too long. He can’t win. There’s no move he can make that this guy won’t be able to stop.

Unless…

You can’t block something you can’t see, right?

Jaehwan takes a deep breath. He summons the knowledge of everything he’s trained himself to do over the past year.

He screams.

The man he was fighting crumples, hands clutched over his ears, face twisted in agony.

Around them, the fight grinds to a halt, everyone in shock.

His friends recover faster, having known they could expect this. In the second of opportunity he has, Jihoon pins the boss up against the wall, arm pressed against his throat.

All of the mob immediately goes to head towards them, seeing their boss in danger, and Jaehwan wants to scream again, this time to tell Jihoon to move away while he still can.

To his surprise, he doesn’t have to. The boss waves his hand, and apparently that’s the signal for his men to hold back, because they all just...stop.

The room is suddenly still and silent, such a violent change from what it was just moments ago that it makes Jaehwan’s head spin.

Apparently Jihoon isn’t pressing down hard enough to cut off the bosses airflow, because he says, cold and perplexingly unbothered “What do you want?”

“We want to stop you,” Jisung says again.

“We want you to leave us alone,” Daehwi adds.

Finally, Minhyun says “We want to know why you manipulated our memories and made us hurt our friends.”

The bosses expression changes so fast that Jaehwan’s head starts spinning again. The cold mask drops away, and there’s a spark of... _ something _ ...in his eyes.

When he speaks, his voice has changed too, his words coming out almost softly.

“That wasn’t me.”

A second of silence.

“You expect us to believe that?” Jihoon spits, pushing harder against the bosses throat.

“It’s true,” The boss insists, struggling to speak now. “Let me go. I think we need to talk.”

Jihoon looks like it’s the last thing he wants to do, but Jisung rests a hand on his shoulder and he reluctantly pulls back.

“Talk,” Jisung demands. “But try anything, and we won’t give you another chance.”

The boss nods, gasping for air now that he’s been released.

“I didn’t do this,” he says again. “But I know who did.”

“And why should we believe you?” Jihoon asks.

The boss levels him with a stare. “Because I want this guy stopped as much as you do.”

No longer struggling for breath, he continues to talk.

“You may have noticed I’m the boss of a crime mob. But wanna know something funny? I hate it. I hate living like this. I do it because it was the only option left for me. I do it because I got kicked out of school time after time. I do it because I haven’t been able to make friends for as long as I remember. I do it because I’ve lost every normal job I ever tried to have. And do you know why?”

“Because you’re a dick who tortures people?” Jaehwan regrets the words as soon as he says them, but thankfully the boss doesn’t immediately try to kill him. He just...laughs. It’s an empty sound.

“It’s because everyone hates me, yes. But they hate me because he  _ made  _ them hate me. Anytime I tried to live a normal life with another human being, he was there, changing the way they saw me. No matter what I did, or said, they stopped trusting me, they saw me as some kind of bad guy. So that’s what I became.”

He sounds sincere. He sounds so resigned. Whatever Jaehwan was expecting today, it wasn’t this. For a second, he tries to imagine living a life like that. A life where people are against him at every turn. A life where he doesn’t have his friends.

He stops as soon as he starts. It hurts too much.

“Why?” he asks, voice still shaking from the ache of the life he just imagined. “Why would someone do this to you? What did you do to this guy?”

The boss smiles, rueful, head dipped down.

“I was his best friend.”

No one says anything. Not Jaehwan, not the mob who have now relaxed their postures and are doing nothing but listening, not anyone.

In the end, It’s Jisung who breaks the silence.

“...You were best friends when you were kids, right?”

Jaehwan blinks. How the hell….?

“Yeah, we were children.” The boss states. “Just normal kids. One day, we got into a fight...I can’t even remember what it was about now but—”

“Action figures. You were fighting about action figures.”

It’s the boss’ turn to blink. “I...yeah...now that you mention it. How do you know all this?”

“I see the past,” Jisung says. “I saw something, when I was in your basement. A vision of two kids playing. One of them— I’m guessing you— got annoyed because he wanted the good guys to win the fight and his friend didn’t. They were arguing, then it cut away.”

The boss mulls this over for a moment, before giving an accepting nod. A second later, he winces, hand reaching up to rub the back of his head. “Sorry about that whole tying you up in my basement and torturing you thing, by the way. You saw what you shouldn’t have. It was nothing personal.”

Jisung doesn’t dignify that with a response. Jaehwan is tempted to, his response starting with ‘F’ and ending with ‘U’, but he reluctantly keeps his mouth shut.

“After that argument...something happened to me. It started with my parents, then my friends. They all pushed me away, accused me of things I didn’t do. He’s the only one who stuck by me. I didn’t understand what was going on, at first. Then, a little while later, I discovered  _ my _ power, and I understood.”

“So...if perception manipulation isn’t your power, then what is?” Sungwoon asks.

“I don’t want to tell you, but I’m guessing it’s the only way you’ll trust me.” The boss sighs. “It’s honestly not that impressive. I know everyone you know. I know their names and who they are to you, but only if I know your name first. It’s pretty useless, but it’s the only reason I’m allowed to have  _ this- “  _ he gestures to his followers around him. “He needs to know people’s names too, to manipulate their perceptions. I give him names, and he doesn’t turn these few people against me. Sometimes, a deal with the devil is the only deal you can make.”

“As fascinating as your sob story is, how about you tell us something useful? Like who he is?” Seongwoo comments.

The boss pauses, then shakes his head. “I— he’s my friend.”

“Your friend?” Jaehwan can’t help but screech. “After all he did to you, you still consider him a friend?”

“I think...I  _ hope _ ...that maybe that boy who I called a friend is still in there somewhere.” He barely sounds like he believes it even as he says it, but that shred of hope he mentioned is there, even if it’s tiny.

“So that’s it? You’re not going to help us? Even though you said you want to stop him as much as we do?” Jihoon says darkly.

“Who said I won’t help you?” The boss is back to his usual self in a split-second, all vulnerability gone. “I won’t tell you who he is, but, on one condition, I’m willing to tell you  _ where  _ he is.”

“And where’s that?” Jihoon demands.

“Give me a way to contact you. I’ll tell you when the time is right.”

Jihoon looks more than ready to attack again, so the boss holds a finger up. “This way I can assure you that he will be where he says he is when I say he is.”

Jihoon deflates, ever so slightly, and Daehwi is the one who speaks up again.

“And your condition?”

“Do what you have to do, but, if it’s possible...bring my friend back to me.”

“You have our word,” Jisung says, and he sounds like he means it.

Jaehwan can’t believe it, but like that, it’s apparently over. The boss moves towards the door, and his people follow after him. Jaehwan watches them, shell-shocked and shaking. He wonders briefly if he’s dreaming. Maybe he got hit too hard and now he’s dying and this is just a dream, because right now he can’t wrap his head around anything.“Hey!” Jisung shouts after him. “One last thing.”

The boss turns.

“You have a lot of hope in your friend. Have some hope in yourself too. You may think this is the only way, but I promise you it’s not.”

Jaehwan doesn’t see the boss’ expression before he turns away again and walks out the door, but he hopes he takes Jisung’s words to heart.  
  



	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for a scene of homophobia this chapter, both internalised and classic ver

 

Daniel has to resist the urge to collapse on the carpet and fall asleep the second they get home. The ride back from the hotel was spent in silence. Not because there wasn’t a lot to talk about but because there was so much they’d just end up going round in circles.

“Who’s injured?” He asks.

A groan comes from where Daehwi has already flung himself on the sofa. He slowly folds his leg up on the armrest so Daniel can see the hole in his jeans and strange burn on his calf, more black than pink or red.

He winces at the sight of it.

“It’s not that bad.” Daehwi shrugs halfheartedly. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t fire. It just...stings.”

He moves over to Daehwi on instinct and gently wraps his hand around the wound,  When he moves away again, there’s nothing but clear skin there.

“Thanks,” Daehwi says, before immediately falling asleep .

He fixes up multiple bruises and grazes, as well as a few other unusual wounds— he doesn’t know what happened to Woojin’s face, it looks like he was scratched by a cat, but Daniel’s cats were never quite this viscous.

Now they’re longer in pain, everyone begins to head off to bed, Jisung carrying Daehwi.

“Jaehwan,” he calls out to the retreating figure. “Don’t think I can’t see you holding your arm like that.”

Jaehwan freezes, winces, turns to face him. “I’m fine and you’re exhausted.”

“No,” Daniel says “Let me help you.”

Jaehwan shakes his head. “Go get some rest.”

“...I’ll make you a deal,” Daniel offers “I’ll go upstairs and sit on my bed if you let me heal you before I actually go to sleep.”

“...Guess I don’t have a choice.”

“Nope,” Daniel shakes his head with a smile. “Come on.”

The way to his room feels longer than usual, but he tries not to falter or complain. Jaehwan is following behind him, and he’s trying to prove to the other that he’s not _that_ tired. When he reaches the door, he pushes it open gratefully and gets as comfortable as he can on the bed while still sitting up. Seongwoo isn’t here, but the sound of the shower running next door answers that question

Jaehwan is hovering by the bed, looking like he has no idea what he’s supposed to do.

“Tell me what hurts.”

“Uhhh. My arm...obviously. I think there’s something up with my back too. I got pushed pretty hard into something, couldn’t see what.”

Daniel nods and reaches out for Jaehwan’s arm first. By the way he’s been holding it, it’s pretty obvious that whatever the injury is, it’s mostly affecting his wrist, so he focuses there. After a moment, Jaehwan lets out a relieved sigh and his wrist falls a lot more naturally in Daniel’s hand.

“Thanks. That feels a lot better.”

“We’re not done yet,” Daniel says before Jaehwan can say anything more. “Sit down.”

It takes some maneuvering, but eventually Jaehwan is sat between Daniel’s legs on the bed, back facing him.

“Do you mind taking your shirt off?”

He feels Jaehwan tense in front of him.

“Uhhh...what?”

“It will be easier to heal without clothes in the way,” he explains patiently.

“Oh...right...of course.”

Jaehwan quickly stands up and strips his shirt off, letting it fall on the floor. The next second, he’s sat down again. The expanse of his bare back is all Daniel can see.

There’s various marks there. Some large, red marks that look like they’ll bloom into aggressive bruises, a large graze where it looks like his back scraped against something, as well a light dusting of freckles.

“Okay,” Daniel says, more to himself than to Jaehwan.

Is it just him or is it suddenly really warm in here?

He reaches for the graze first, placing his palm over it. He must be tired, because he leaves his hand there for a good few more seconds than necessary.

He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. He heads over to one of the red marks, watching it disappear before his eyes.

“Thank you for this, by the way,” Jaehwan suddenly says, words running together. “We’d really be screwed without you.”

“I’m happy to do it,” Daniel responds. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

He feels the shuddering breath Jaehwan takes under his fingers. It’s only then that he realises that not only is his hand still on Jaehwan’s back, but that without realising it he’d started tracing over Jaehwan’s shoulder bone, delicately hesitating around his wounds instead of healing them.

He doesn’t move his hand.

It’s _very_ warm in here.

“I...care about you too, Daniel,” Jaehwan hesitates over his words, as if he’s almost not sure that that’s the right way to respond.

Daniel doesn’t know if it is either, but he knows that the words wrap around his heart in a comforting, warm, completely unbearable way and….oh.

 _Oh_.

“...Daniel, are you okay?”

He thinks maybe he’s been silent, trapped in his moment of realisation for too long, but mostly he just thinks about Jaehwan’s voice saying his name. God, he must have done it a million times before now, why is it suddenly something he can’t stop thinking about, can’t stand to hear, wants to hear again and again?

“Fine,” Daniel chokes out. “You’re all healed. Goodnight.”

He barely notices himself shoving Jaehwan’s shirt back into his hands and practically forcing him out of the door. He can’t think, can’t even _breathe_ , until he’s alone again. When he is, he drops back onto his bed, still feeling warm and upside-down and _too much_.

He knows what this feeling is. He’s only felt it once before, but he recognises it instantly, It’s different, but in so many ways it’s the same. He knows what this means, what his heart is telling him, what perhaps it’s been telling him for a long time.

He likes Jaehwan.

He _likes_ Jaehwan.

 _He likes Jaehwan_.

It’s the only solid thought that he can form, even though he wants to run away from it and never think about it again. It’s all just fear, shame, lingering warmth, and that one thought over and over again: He likes Jaehwan.

 

_“What do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to put our family to shame? Do you hate me that much? After all I’ve done for you?”_

_Daniel had to resist the urge to cover his ears from his mother's shouting. He was breaking down inside. He needed an excuse. He needed a way out of all this._

_But what lie could he tell? She’d seen them. She’d seen him and Seongwoo. Not in some compromising position, not even kissing, they had been arguing for god’s sake._

_But that overheard argument was enough to ruin everything._

_Seongwoo had been telling him to make up his mind. He’d said that Daniel couldn’t just kiss him and claim it was nothing minutes later again. He’d told Seongwoo that he couldn’t, even though he wanted it, and he’d finally accepted he wanted it, they couldn’t be together._

_And his mother had heard everything._

_“You were always like this. You were always trying to destroy me. You never tried hard enough to be what I asked, and now you’re going out of your way to betray my wishes!”_

_“It’s not like that!” Daniel said desperately. “This isn’t about you...it’s about him! And it’s about me! And…”_

_“About him?” his mother spat. “Oh, that’s rich. People like that boy...people like you...it’s all one night stands and infatuation. You’ll forget all about that boy the minute another boy walks by!”_

_Out of everything she’d said, that hurt the most. He...he cared about Seongwoo. He thought, with everything in his seventeen year old heart, that he loved him. He loved him. It was the first time he’d said it, even to himself, but he knew with a conviction that he’d never felt before that it was true._

_His mother's screaming continued. He didn’t know what to say, he knew that nothing would make her change her mind. All he could do was stand there, frozen by her hail of abuse. He didn’t know how long he stood there for, but by the time he came back to himself the sun outside had set and his mother was gone._

_He found himself in his room, unsure of how exactly he got there. There was a strange trill in the air, and then a “Daniel? What’s wrong?”_

_“Jisung? I— I...” his voice was shaking._

_“Daniel? Why did you call me?”_

_He called Jisung? Huh. That explained the phone pressed against his ear._

_“Jisung...I….I—”_

_“What’s wrong? Talk to me.”_

_So Daniel did. After weeks of keeping a secret from his best friend for the first time in his life, he told him everything. As he did, the world came back into focus. His room was no longer a blur of colours but instead every edge was vivid. The pale walls and pine furniture were stark, threatening. In that moment, he realised what he’d always known: This house was a prison._

_“Daniel, thank you for telling me this. You know I’m here for you, right? Always.”_

_Daniel smiled a little at Jisung’s words, but it was mostly out of habit. “I don’t think she’ll ever let me be myself.”_

_“Then we’ll get away from her. You’ll be eighteen soon. You can move out and come live with me.”_

_Daniel processed the words slowly, like they’re salve soothing a burn. Get away from her? It was what he wanted, but he’d never thought of it as a real possibility before. Even when he moved out and got his own place, she’d still be there, trying to control him, and he didn’t know how to push her away...but maybe...with help…_

_“Do you really mean that?” he asked._

_“Of course, and I mean what I’m going to say next too. Don’t let her keep you away from what you want. This is your life. Do what makes you happy. Be with who makes you happy. You deserve to be happy, Daniel.”_

_Not for the first time, he was struck by how lucky he was to have Jisung as his friend._

_“I— Thank you.” It’s all he could say. He didn’t know how to express all the gratitude in his heart._

_He could feel Jisung smiling on the other end of the phone._

_“Get some rest. It’s late. I’ll see you tomorrow and then  we can talk more about what we’re gonna do?”_

_“Yeah, okay.” he nodded. “Goodnight, Jisung.”_

_When the phone call was done he dragged himself to the bathroom to get ready for bed. After that, he crawled under the covers, but not before sending a single text._

**_To: Seongwoo_ **

**_I want to be with you, for real...always._ **

 

He jumps when he hears a door opening. He looks over and finds Seongwoo there, rubbing a towel over his still wet hair.

“Hey,” he says, looking over at Daniel “...Is everything okay?”

Daniel tries to push down the feeling that he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have, even though he’s just sitting there. What can Seongwoo see right now? Daniel can’t even tell what he’s feeling right now. There’s too many emotions all at once. Does Seongwoo know what he’s feeling? Can he see...everything?

That thought, like everything else, is too much.

“Daniel…” Seongwoo is by his side in an instant, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. It’s nice, familiar, he can’t help but lean into it. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

He knows Seongwoo is worried. He can hear it in his voice, knows he’ll see it on his face if he turns to look, but still he says nothing. Words are a foreign concept. He doesn’t even know what he’s thinking, never mind what he should say.

But he does know that he never wants to keep the truth from Seongwoo.

Shaking, he says “I’m...I’m so sorry.”

“Daniel? What’s wrong? You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I like Jaehwan.”

 

* * *

 

Oh.

_Oh._

Seongwoo doesn’t know what he was expecting. It wasn’t this. Or rather, it was. He knows. Of course he knows. Daniel may have took a long time to realise his feelings, but Seongwoo has been able to see them for a while now. It’s more that he wasn’t expecting this right now, after the hotel, and the fight. If there’s ever a good time for Daniel to realise his feelings, it isn’t now.

“Daniel...It’s okay,” he says. He tries to keep his voice as comforting as possible, but maybe that’s for the worst, because Daniel stills in his arms.

“What do you mean it’s okay? How can this be okay?!”

“Daniel,” he breathes out “Do you still love me?”

Daniel’s head snaps up. “Of course I do. I’ve loved you since...forever.”

“Then it’s okay.” Seongwoo smiles.

Daniel seems to have calmed down. He’s relaxed, and he lets out one long, even breath, so much better than his borderline sobs from before. He’s about to say something, maybe ask Daniel if he wants to continue talking about this now, or if they should head to bed and discuss it in the morning, or even wait until after all this is over and they don’t have to worry about whoever is out to get them anymore.

“Can you make it go away?”

Okay. Apparently Daniel has not calmed down.

Seongwoo feels something icy-cold shoot down his spine.

“Can I...can I what?”

“Can you make it go away,” Daniel says again, eerily calm. “My...feelings...for him….you can make them go away, right?”

“Daniel...You don’t want that…” Seongwoo’s voice is the one that’s shaking now.

Daniel glares at him, or at least, he tries to. Sure, his eyes are narrowed, but there’s no anger in them— sadness, fear, but not anger.

“What if I’d made your feelings for me go away, huh? Would you want that?!”

“Of course not!” Daniel protests. “But this is...it’s different!”

“How? How is it different?”

“Because...because I’m _with_ you! And I love you! And...and if I like someone else as well as you then that means…”

Seongwoo feels the blanks slot into place with a sinking feeling.

“Because...if you have feelings for him too...then you’re everything your mother said you were,” Seongwoo finishes for him. “That’s what you were going to say, right?”

With tears in his eyes and a reluctant acceptance, Daniel nods.

“Well that’s wrong!” he doesn’t mean for it to sound angry, but he can’t help it. He _is_ angry. He’s angry about how, after all this time, that woman’s words continue to haunt Daniel...No, continue to haunt the both of them.

“ _She’s_ wrong!” Seongwoo repeats. “Everything she ever said to you was bullshit. We’ve been over this, right?”

“B-but…”

“No. She doesn’t matter anymore, okay?” He cups Daniel’s face in his hands. “This is between you and me, and I’m telling you there’s nothing wrong with what you feel. There is nothing wrong with you, period.”

Daniel doesn’t say anything to that, instead, he buries his face in Seongwoo’s neck again. He runs his hand through Daniel’s hair, absentmindedly trying to calm him. The air around them is still, it seems stagnant and endless, but eventually Daniel raises his head again. He withdraws from Seongwoo and turns to look at him instead. He’s not smiling.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” he says. It still sounds like he’s trying to convince himself, but it’s good enough for now.

“So,” he continues. “What do we do now?”

“What do you want to do?” Seongwoo asks.

Daniel blinks at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do you want, Daniel?”

He knows it’s a loaded question. _What do you want?_ He himself wants a lot of things: He wants this ordeal they’re all going through to be over, he wants no one to get hurt, he wants a new job since his current one now feels tainted, he wants them all to be happy. He wants Daniel, Jaehwan and himself to be happy.

“...I don’t know what I want.” Daniel whispers,

“That’s okay.” Seongwoo smiles. Then, he starts to speak again, suddenly hesitant. “But...before you decide...can I tell you something?”

“What is it?” Daniel asks, brows furrowed.

Seongwoo smiles, but it’s weak. He knows that this is the best time there is. He knows he should just say it now, because there’s no way they can truly figure out where to go from here if they’re not on the same page. Still, he can feel his heartbeat rack up in his chest as he says the words.

“I like Jaehwan too.”

 _What do you want?_ He wants Jaehwan, and he wants Daniel, he wants both of them.

It’s out there now. He can’t take it back. He thought he’d be more nervous about this, but honestly, it’s freeing. His heart is beared for Daniel to see, as it should be.

“Since when?” It’s hard to tell how Daniel feels from his voice, but Seongwoo knows that he’s surprised, rather than angry or upset, and he lets out a breath of relief.

“For a while, I guess? I’m not really sure when it started...I think maybe I’ve liked him a little from the start, and it just grew, the more time I spent with him.”

It’s the best way he has to describe it. He looked at Jaehwan for the first time and thought, passingly, that he was beautiful. Beautiful turned into fun, hilarious, interesting, talented, more than beautiful, and appreciation turned into something more while he wasn’t looking.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” he continues. “I knew you liked him too, and I knew you needed to work that out for yourself. Until you did, I didn’t know how to tell you,”

It’s a weak admission. He knows he withheld this information out of confusion, and fear, as well as the reasons he stated. He just wants all of them to be happy, and telling Daniel earlier would have been detrimental to that dream.

“This is…a lot to take in.” Daniel laughs. There’s a smile on his face, and it’s at least a little bit genuine. “So, what do we do from here?”

Seongwoo shrugs. “Like I said, it depends on what you want. Whatever we do, we have to do it together. But…” he trails off.

“But?”

“But in a few days, for all we know, we could be dead.” The person out there who messed with their perceptions is dangerous. Seongwoo knows that. He may not have physically hurt them yet, but who knows how far he’s willing to go. “Do you want to die regretting not doing something? Just because it’s new or scary? I don’t.”

He knows he’s holding another card that could change everything. He knows for sure that Jaehwan, incredibly, likes them back. But he can’t tell Daniel that. It’s Jaehwan’s secret to tell, not his.

 

He can only tell Daniel how he feels, and right now, he feels afraid. Not of his feelings, or what could happen if they tell Jaehwan how they feel, but of dying. He’s been thinking about it since before they left for the hotel. He doesn’t want his existence to just snuff out, like his life is just a single flame being consumed by an inferno. The thought makes him feel starkly, undeniably young. He’s too young to die, but if he has to, he doesn’t want to die without Jaehwan knowing how he feels. They deserve more than that.

“We’re not going to die,” Daniel says fiercely. He reaches for Seongwoo’s hand, clutching it tightly. It makes him remember that right now, he’s still alive. “But...you’re right. I don’t want that. I just...I need more time to think.”

“I understand.” Seongwoo smiles. “Let’s go to bed.”

That night, they fall asleep in eachothers arms, clutching to each other for dear life, but both aware of the empty space next to them.

 

* * *

 

Jinyoung feels the aching sense of nostalgia that comes with thinking of something old, mixed with the fresh, airy excitement that comes with something new.

He feels like an imposter as he hikes his bag over his shoulder. It has all his pens and notebooks stuffed inside because, inexplicably, he’s going to school today. He only skipped a few days, but it feels like he’s going somewhere almost unfamiliar, somewhere that only exists in his memories instead of the concrete part of his life it should be.

He doesn’t really want to go, but with nothing to do until the boss contacts them, he has no reason to skip and go over to Jisung’s instead. He can’t afford to miss too much school anyway— too many unexplained absences and they might contact his parents. He doesn’t want to think about that conversation.

He drags himself downstairs and out the door, shouting goodbye to his parents before he leaves.

Daehwi is waiting for him outside.

“Ugh,” he greets. “I feel like I should be going to bed right now. Can a few days really ruin your sleeping pattern this much?”

“Apparently,” Jinyoung sighs in response. “Lets go. At least when we get to school we can sit down.”

Thankfully, their first lesson is art. He says thankfully not only because it’s a subject he actually enjoys, but also because it’s the only class he shares with Daehwi and they can make sure they keep each other awake. Mrs. Kwon doesn’t question their absences for the past few days, but Jinyoung is almost sure she’s glancing over to them with either concern or anger when they’re not looking.

The assignment today is surrealism. Surrealism: championing the irrational, the poetic and the revolutionary. It’s a style that he’s always simultaneously loved and struggled with recreating. Yet, when Mrs. Kwon tells them to start he finds himself dragging a piece of paper towards him and reaching for the paint. He knows exactly what he wants to paint this time. Maybe his life is surreal enough now that he doesn’t have to struggle to find inspiration.

He paints, and he paints, surprisingly awake now. Every few minutes or so he’ll glance over at Daehwi and nudge the other boy from his dozing— at one point, he almost fell asleep with his head in the palette he was using, filled with bright orange— but other than that he focuses on the work in front of him.

By the time the bell rings, he’s not finished, but the artwork is starting to take form. The outline of a brain takes up the whole page, only detailed on the hippocampus— melting away and off the page in a solid shade of grey, and the limbic system— exploding off the page in every colour he could find.

He feels more and more uncomfortable the longer he looks at it, but mostly he’s pretty proud.

“That’s so good!” Daehwi tells him.

“Thanks. What did you do?”

Daehwi shows him his work. It’s even further away from complete than Jinyoung’s, still more pencil than paint. It features a crowd of brightly coloured demons in a hotel ballroom, being waited on by human staff sporting serene expressions.

Jinyoung tries and fails to cover up a laugh. “Wow, I wonder where you get your inspiration?”

“If Mrs.Kwon asks, it’s television”

They’re forced to split up for their next class. Daehwi heads for music theory, he heads for economics. It’s a lot harder to stay awake in this class. He pulls out his textbook and just stares at the page, none of the words sinking in. There’s that nostalgia again, the one that makes him think of surrealism and otherness. The bell rings before he’s even wrapped his head around the fact that he’s here right now.

He and Daehwi agreed to meet in the cafeteria for lunch, so he heads there, grateful to find Daehwi already waiting.

“How was class?”

Jinyoung almost groans. “So boring. I don’t care about the economy. Rich, white men already ruined it for the rest of us.”

Daehwi laughs, then says “Lunch?”

“Lunch.” Jinyoung agrees.

Their options are as depressing as always, but he grabs an apple while Daehwi buys a sandwich that Jinyoung has come to learn is the only thing he ever eats from this place.

Jinyoung is about to ask him where they should sit when a sudden voice interrupts them.

“Daehwi! I’m so glad you’re back! Were you sick or something?” Jinyoung recognises the girl as Somi easily, but he doubts she recognises him.

“Yeah! No big deal though. I feel fine now,” Daehwi’s lie would probably be convincing to even Jinyoung if he didn’t know the truth.

“Well, come on. Everyone’s missed you, even if Siyeon wouldn’t admit it.” She clutches Daehwi’s wrist and begins to drag him outside. For a moment, Jinyoung feels that familiar ache of loneliness and the desire to disappear, but then Somi turns to him and says “Are you coming, Jinyoung?”

The surprise banishes all thoughts from his mind. “Uh...I mean, if I’m welcome?”

“Of course you are. Any friend of Daehwi’s is a friend of ours.”

Daehwi sends him a reassuring smile. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

He’s robotic as he follows them out to the courtyard. Before he knows it, he’s sat at the table between Daehwi and Samuel. He’s surprised how easily his nervousness is dispelled, vanishing somewhere between Samuel gushing to him about video games and Siyeon declaring him a suitable minion in her five step plan for world domination.

He talks to them, and laughs, and it’s fun and surprisingly easy. He freezes for a moment when he sees the people who bullied him walk past, but though they glance in his direction, they don’t say a word and he’s quickly dragged back into helping Somi plan for her first date with the girl she’d _‘finally’_ asked out.

Lunch is over before he realises. When he leaves, he’s forgotten all about his earlier fear, warmed by the presence of the four new numbers saved in his phone.

“You were right,” he tells Daehwi as they walk back into the building together. “That was fun.”

“They’re great people, as annoying as they are.” Daehwi rolls his eyes affectionately. “I’m glad you could get to know them.”

Daehwi’s words strike a chord in him, or, more accurately, the words he doesn’t say do. There’s clearly a _‘before’_ lingering at the end of that sentence. _‘I’m glad you could get to know them...before...anything happens to us.’_ It hits him in all-encompassing rush— for a moment, he felt so normal, but in reality, the reality separate from classes and video games and shitty school lunches, he’s afraid.

They’re all afraid. They have no idea what they’re up against, or even when they’ll be up against it, never mind what will happen when they are. The idea of death has crossed his mind. Of course it has. Death and fear are instinctually linked in the human psyche. Even with no direct threat made on their lives, they can’t help but consider the end of them when they have no idea just what their enemy is really capable of.

Still, they shouldn’t talk like it’s already over. They have so much living left to do.

“We’re going to be fine,” he tells Daehwi.

Daehwi’s watery smile says it all. “Thanks. You’re right.”

 

* * *

 

Daehwi is both regretful and grateful to get out of school for the day. Regretful because it was honestly refreshing to spend a few hours not having to think about anything but math problems and genomes. Grateful, because it means he gets to go home and remind himself that right now, they’re all okay.

He and Jinyoung enter the house to a lot of noise and the smell of something sickly sweet permeating the air. He frowns in confusion and glances at Jinyoung who shrugs back, as lost as he is.

“Sungwoon dragged everyone into baking a cake,” Jisung explains from where he’s wiping down the banister. “I said we should clean this place up since we haven’t exactly bothered the past few days. Sungwoon insisted that cake would help. Everyone agreed.”

“This sounds like a disaster,” Daehwi says slowly.

“Let’s go check it out!” Jinyoung adds excitedly.

The commotion in the kitchen is obvious the second they step inside. There’s flour dusting every surface. There’s about five spoons sat by the sink, all covered in some degree of cake batter. Everyone is crowded around the island. There’s yet more flour in their hair and Jaehwan and Daniel both look like they got in a fight with an icing tube and lost.

“Daehwi! Jinyoung!” Guanlin cheers. “Come help us decorate the cake!”

“Haven’t you all made the cake ugly enough?” Sungwoon despairs.

One look at said cake tells Daehwi that, yes, they definitely have. The sponge itself is shapeless under the mounds of icing it’s been subjected to. There’s no colour scheme or order, just all the colours of the rainbow intersecting messily. There’s a forest of sugar flowers in one corner, an explosion of chocolate stars in another. In the middle is a sloppy smiley face made out of green icing, surrounded by writing in all different colours. Daehwi can’t make out the actual words despite the obviously different authors.

“How did you mess up this badly?” Daehwi asks in amazement.

Guanlin grins. “I don’t know, but it’s incredible.”

“They didn’t even wait for it to cool,” Sungwoon laments.

Guanlin ignores him and shouts for Jisung instead. When Jisung walks in, he immediately groans. “I am not cleaning this room up. That is on all of you.”

“Just come get some cake. Worry about that later.” Guanlin waves him off.

Seongwoo cuts the cake into surprisingly even slices and they all gather around the breakfast bar. Daehwi frowns at his cake like it’s a puzzle he just can’t work out, or a snake coiled up and ready to strike, but eventually, out of the goodness of his heart, picks up his fork and takes a bite. It’s...surprisingly edible, if he avoids most of the icing.

Conversation flows around him as he eats. It’s light, easy, but he can’t help but find the underlying tremor beneath all their voices like an earthquake lingering beneath the ground. This is an imitation of what they should be, a play acting out a story told before, but they’re trying, and right now that’s all they can do.

“This cake is really good,” Guanlin says, coming up to him. “Maybe Sungwoon’s real superpower is baking.”

“If his real power was baking we’d all still be brainwashed,” Daehwi points out.

Guanlin points his fork at him as if he’s said something incredibly intelligent.

“What’s got you in such a good mood anyway?” Daehwi asks.

“I’ve had an epiphany.”

“...And what’s that?” Daehwi asks, undeniably curious.

“I’ll explain later. Meet me at my room.”

“...Sure.”

Guanlin walks off to get another slice of cake, leaving Daehwi to ponder what just happened? An epiphany? Had he had an idea for some great new invention or something? Would it help them defeat the person who’s been tormenting them? He’s tempted to run after Guanlin and ask him more questions, but if he said he’ll tell him later then Daehwi will trust him.

When the cake is demolished they set out to clean up. Daehwi takes the job of wiping down the island. It’s simple and mindless, almost comforting. Between eleven of them the place is spotless pretty fast.

When Daehwi throws the paper towels he’d been using out he looks up and finds that Guanlin must have slipped out of the kitchen at some point. Does that mean Daehwi should go meet him now? They never set a time.

He runs upstairs and knocks on Guanlin’s door. It swings open and Guanlin grins as he welcomes him inside.

Daehwi sits gingerly on the bed, Guanlin sits in his desk chair, spun around to face him.

“So?” Daehwi asks. “What’s this epiphany you mentioned?”

“I’ll explain when everyone is here.”

Daehwi opens his mouth to say something but he’s interrupted by a rhythmic knock at the door. When Guanlin opens it he sees Jinyoung, Woojin and Jihoon on the other side.

Guanlin welcomes them in. Woojin takes the space next to Daehwi on the bed, Jinyoung settles on the floor, and Jihoon stays standing.

Suddenly, the smile that Guanlin has been wearing all day falters. “I want to ask you guys a serious question.”

Daehwi gulps. This can’t be good, can it?

“We’re listening,” Jihoon prompts.

“Okay,” Guanlin breathes. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, to be honest. I’ve thought about if this is the right thing to do, and if I’m ready to do it, and I came to a decision. But I want to ask you guys if you think it’s the right decision. I already asked Jisung, and he agrees with me, but I wanted more opinions…should I contact Seonho?”

“Seonho?” Woojin gasps. “As in your old friend Seonho?”

“Yeah. As you all know we haven’t spoken since he moved away. Obviously, that’s not because I didn’t have a way to. It took me five seconds to find him online, no powers necessary. I didn’t because I was too scared. I didn’t because I thought I didn’t deserve to. But...now...with everything...what if this is the only chance I ever have to speak to him again?”

“Do it!” Daehwi blurts out, so fast he’s almost embarrassed.

“I agree. You should. You can’t punish yourself forever, Linnie. You deserve better than that.” Jihoon says.

Woojin is oddly silent.

Guanlin seems to think that over for a moment, then nods, a smile on his face. “Thank you. I think I’m going to do it.”

They talk for a bit longer— about what Guanlin should say, about what Seonho might say back, and then about nothing in particular. After a while, they all leave Guanlin’s room to give him the privacy to message Seonho.

Daehwi heads back downstairs, wanting to grab water and maybe a snack before he reluctantly starts on his homework.

At least, that’s the plan, but when he walks into the kitchen he finds Jisung leaning against a counter, staring harshly at his phone.

“What’s wrong?” Daehwi asks.

“I got a text. From the boss. He told us when and where we can find his friend.”


	17. Chapter 17

The day has passed too quickly, disappearing before Woojin’s eyes without his consent. He can run so fast, but all he wants right now is for the world to slow down for him.

Yesterday Jisung got a text with an address, a date and time, and the simple warning of ‘I hope you know what you’re getting into’.

The warning is unnecessary, the address is impossible to find online, and the date and time is what is now tomorrow evening.

As a group they’ve been almost inseparable the whole day. They want to spend every minute possible with each other, the reason always there but never spoken— what if they don’t all come back after this? They ate breakfast together, watched movies until the afternoon, went out for milkshakes for lunch, hung out in the living room talking about everything that wasn’t tomorrow, and now they’re gathered around the table for dinner.

“Woojin, you haven’t eaten much. Are you okay?”

He’s drawn out of his thoughts by Jisung’s voice and his gaze travels to his plate on instinct. Jisung is right. The only sign he’s eaten anything is the couple of bites missing from the chicken. It’s not like he doesn’t have an appetite. Despite everything, he’s fairly hungry. He just...keeps getting lost in his thoughts. He looks around the table and wants to stay in this moment forever, but his mind won't let him.

He ignores the rest of the food on his plate and sips idly on his drink as they pile away their dishes and move back to the living room. Daehwi chooses the movie, something animated that Woojin swears he’s seen before, flashes of technicolour in the grey of his childhood memories. The taste of hot cocoa, the sting of grazed knees, the feeling of brotherhood.

They were only allowed to watch TV when their foster parents weren’t in the living room. It was a rare thing, and his memories of those times are vague and fleeting, but he remembers how happy they made him.

The credits roll, the sun sets, the clock ticks ever closer to tomorrow.

They don’t want to go to bed, but they have to. You can’t fight if you don’t have the energy for it.

He lies in bed with his eyes open. The lights are off. He can see nothing but the memories flashing in his mind: autumn leaves crunching underfoot as he walks to school, a cardboard sign in the crowds of his soccer games, blue staining his tongue from the slushie he couldn’t afford, not feeling alone for the first time.

Guanlin’s voice echoes in his mind: _‘What if I never get the chance to speak to him again?’._ It was a question about Seonho, but in that moment there was only one person Woojin could think about: Donghyun.

Donghyun: the first person to make him feel less alone, the first person to ever consider him family, the person he swore to himself he didn’t miss, the person he missed everyday, the person who’s been consuming his thoughts all day, the person he hasn’t spoken to in about a year, Donghyun.

Woojin doesn’t know what to do. He pushed Donghyun away, he knows that. Donghyun, wherever he is, probably doesn’t want anything to do with Woojin, and it’s all his own fault; he thought Donghyun had abandoned him, and by thinking that he made it true. He isn’t in that mindset anymore. He has people who support him now, people who can help him work through his emotions, and he sees the truth for what it is. But that doesn’t change every ignored call and text message in the past year.

Donghyun was a huge part of his life. If Woojin dies tomorrow, he doesn’t want to die with Donghyun thinking he hated him. But despite that, he can’t bring himself to reach out. All it would take is a phone call, but it feels like there’s a chasm between them. Woojin is reaching out across it, but Donghyun doesn’t see him.

If he calls and he’s pushed away, will that just make the lump in his stomach worse?

He feels so small in the dark of his room, curled under his covers like a child hiding from the monster in the closet. But this monster isn’t in the closet or under the bed, it’s in his future and his past and his chest, and the flicker of light that will make it go away isn’t here.

 _‘I’m going to talk to Seonho.’_ Guanlin isn’t afraid anymore. Woojin shouldn’t be either. But it’s easier said than done. Still, he has to do this. If he can’t make a simple phone call, how is he supposed to walk into the unknown tomorrow?

His phone screen glows in the darkness as he unlocks it. He doesn’t have Donghyun’s number saved anymore, but it’s emblazoned in his memory. He doesn’t know when he stood up, but he finds himself pacing, floor steady beneath his feet. He types the numbers in with shaking hands, and lets it ring.

Ring, just like it did everytime he ignored Donghyun’s calls.

Ring, just like it eventually stopped doing when Donghyun realised he wouldn’t get an answer.

Ring, a desperate shout across a chasm.

Ring, “Hello?”

The voice is static familiarity that makes Woojin sink down the wall and onto the floor. In this moment the world feels so small yet so vast. Time isn’t a line but a circle. He’s twelve and he’s eighteen. He forgets the darkness of his room, the late hour, the impending fear of tomorrow. Instead, he remembers.

“Hello?”

It’s only then that Woojin realises he forgot to speak. If he doesn’t say something, then Donghyun will probably hang up, but he has to force his voice through his throat. It comes out croaky and weak.

“Hi, Donghyun:”

He can hear Donghyun breathe down the phone before he says “Woojin?”

For some reason, Woojin laughs. The situation is just too surreal.

“Woojin? Is that really you? Are you okay?” Donghyun’s voice is breathy and rapid fire and so familiar yet not at the same time.

“It’s me. Is that really you?” It’s a stupid question, he knows what number he dialled, but it doesn’t feel real.

“It’s me,” Donghyun laughs, sounding just at choked as Woojin feels. “Why are you calling? Not that I’m not  happy you are but...is something wrong? Do you need help? Where have you been?”

Every question there is loaded, cocked, and fired, shooting bullets into Woojin’s mind, heart, and sense of resolve. He can’t give up now, but though he is ready to talk to Donghyun again, he isn’t ready to explain everything.

“When you left, I felt like you abandoned me. I know that you had no choice, but I couldn’t help how I felt either. I avoided you, and I got myself involved in...some really stupid stuff in the process.”

“It’s only natural that you felt that way, after everything,” Donghyun assures him. “But Woojin, I didn’t abandon you. You’re my brother, and you always will be. Even when I stopped calling, I still thought about you, I was still waiting for the day you’d come back into my life.”

Woojin smiles. He’s missed Donghyun. Even with the family he has in his life now, Donghyun will always mean a lot to him, and hearing him say the words that Woojin has desperately needed to hear for so long now brings him a kind of peace he didn’t realise he was missing.

“I know. I’m sorry, for the way I reacted. You...you didn’t deserve that. I— can you tell me about yourself? Please. I don’t want to talk about me. I want to know what I’ve missed in your life.”

Donghyun does. He tells him how he’s an anthropology major in a decent college now. He tells him how he’s made friends and they play video games and drink beer every Saturday night. He tells him how his dorm room is the nicest place he’s ever stayed. He tells him about someone called Im Youngmin for a long time, until Woojin finally asks him if they’re together— he can feel Donghyun’s blush through the phone.

Eventually, the late hour seems to find Woojin and Donghyun’s voice fades to background noise as he struggles to keep his eyes open. He doesn’t want the call to end, but he needs to sleep.

“Hey, Donghyun?” he says quietly. “If I don’t call again, don’t hold it against me, okay?”

He hangs up before Donghyun can argue.

He’s still sat against the wall when there’s a knock at his bedroom door.

The light of the hallway blinds him for a moment, forcing him to blink. There’s still light spots in his vision, but he can make out a figure. Standing in his doorway, backed by a halo of light, is Jihoon. He doesn’t speak, or make any move to come in or drag Woojin out, he just stands there, looking past Woojin and into the dark room behind him.

“Hey,” Woojin says after a moment. “What’s up?”

“I just—“ Jihoon shakes his head the starts over. “Tomorrow. It’s tomorrow, and I was trying to sleep but—“

Woojin realises what Jihoon is trying to say, and what it means that he’s saying it at all, in one moment of bright clarity.

“You don’t want to be alone tonight,” Woojin finishes for him.

“Yeah,” Jihoon’s voice is nothing but pure vulnerability that hits Woojin’s heart, waking him up. He doesn’t feel tired anymore, he feels a rush of emotions instead, emotions he doesn’t feel ready to name. Instead of saying anything, he lets Jihoon inside, and tentatively links their hands together.

“Come on then, let's sleep.”

They crawl into Woojin’s bed without breaking apart. Even when they’re both under the covers, the only part of them touching is their hands. That little bit of contact both grounds Woojin and makes him feel as if he’s flying.

They’re facing each other. It should be hard to see in the dark, but that doesn’t matter when he can feel Jihoon’s presence, drawing him in and keeping him steady with a warm hand and mesmerising eyes.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Jihoon breathes.

“Yeah. It’s more than okay, it’s...perfect.”

Woojin can’t see it, but he hopes Jihoon is smiling.

“Goodnight, Woojin,” he says.

“Goodnight. See you in the morning.”

Finally, slowly, he falls into a peaceful sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jaehwan wonders if he should just go home. After dinner, Jisung said he was more than welcome to use his usual guest room. In fact, it was less of an offer and more of a request. But he knows that even if he tried, he couldn’t sleep. He knows this well enough that he hasn’t even gone to his room yet, instead sitting in the living room, strumming his guitar.

He wants to write a song. If he can’t sleep, then he can at least use these extra hours to be productive, right? But every note sounds wrong, discordant with the ones before and after it. It feels meaningless, trying to do something as unimportant as write a song right now. But what else is he supposed to do? It’s not like he can prepare more for what’s happening tomorrow. One night isn’t going to make him stronger, or smarter, or more in tune with his power. He just has to hope that his best is good enough. (He knows It isn’t.)

He presumed he’s alone down here. Everyone else went up to their rooms...he doesn’t know how long ago, so, he’s surprised when he hears footsteps, and even more surprised when they head towards the living room instead of the kitchen.

He looks up to see both Daniel and Seongwoo walking into the living room. Without even acknowledging him, Daniel takes a seat next to him while Seongwoo takes one of the chairs.

“Can’t sleep?” Jaehwan asks.

“You could say that,” Daniel answers, an almost mysterious smile on his face.

Jaehwan isn’t sure what to say to that, so they fall into silence for a moment. Seongwoo is the one who breaks it.

“We want to ask you something, Jaehwan. And no pressure, but I’ll know if you’re lying.” Seongwoo grins. It’s teasing, _tempting_ , Jaehwan can’t help but stare at his mouth.

“What...what do you want to ask me?”

If he was thinking rationally, he’d probably be confused right now, maybe even scared, but Seongwoo is still smiling like that, still looking at him like that, and he can’t think of anything else.

“I...uhhh...I don’t know how to put it into words.” Daniel laughs, drawing his attention.

“What do you m—“ Jaehwan is cut off by a pair of lips meeting his.

Soft, warm, a little chapped, everything he’s dreamed about, and he can’t move. He’s frozen, caught in the feeling of Daniel’s lips, paralysed by the moment. Then, Daniel pulls back, the absence is sudden, leaving Jaehwan confused and wanting.

He stares at Daniel. Daniel stares back.

“Was that...okay?” Daniel asks, more shy than Jaehwan has ever seen him.

“What the hell?” Jaehwan blurts out. “I...this...why did you do that?” he turns to Seongwoo, suddenly remembering his presence in the room. His face is impassive, like he hadn’t just witnessed his boyfriend kiss someone else, like this is all completely normal. “Why did he do that?”

“Like I said, we want to ask you something,” Seongwoo replies. “What’s your answer?”

Maybe Jaehwan was wrong when he thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Maybe he fell asleep right here in the living room, and this is all a dream. A dream? A nightmare? He’s had these dreams before, and it always feels like his subconscious is taunting him, reminding him he’s in love with two of his best friends and they’ll never look at him like that outside the realms of his own mind.

If this is a dream, he should know what to say. You don’t _think_ in dreams, you just _do._

“What...what exactly is the question?” Jaehwan swallows, because even in dreams he’s clearly an idiot, especially when it comes to these two.

“We like you,” Seongwoo says, straight and to the point, like it doesn’t make Jaehwan’s world spin. “We like you. Do you like us?”

Jaehwan calms himself enough to realise the last question is a courtesy. It’s a courtesy because he’s expected for a long time that Seongwoo _knows_ , and something about the way he asks makes it clear he already knows the answer.

“You know that,” Jaehwan says. He doesn’t know if he _means_ for it to come out accusatory, but it does. “You know that. So what is this? A joke? Pity? You can’t just—“ he’s cut off again, this time by Daniel’s hand resting innocently on his thigh.

“It’s none of those things. We like you. _I_ like you. And, judging by your reaction, I think you like us too, so what’s wrong? If you don’t want this, just say, and we’ll go.”

This is definitely a dream. It can’t be anything else. Kang Daniel is sat next to him, palm practically burning into his thigh, saying he likes him, that Seongwoo likes him. It can’t be real, because he’s already been pining for a year, because he’s told himself again and again it will never happen, because—

“Why would you want me?” It’s a challenge. Jaehwan has to hear it. He has to hear why, after all the reasons he’s told himself that they won’t want him, why they apparently do after all. Maybe then, it can feel real.

“Because you’re _you_ . You’re Kim Jaehwan. You’re beautiful, and you’re funny, and we love spending time with you. You sing so beautifully it’s unfair. You’re creative, and dedicated, and _we like you_ . You can’t just put feelings into lists and words— trust me, I’ve tried, I’m surrounded by emotions every day and I can twist and change them but I can’t _explain_ them. We like you, because you’re you, and there is nothing not to like.” Seongwoo meets his challenge with a kind of passion he doesn’t think he’s ever heard. The kind of passion that makes him want to sing. The kind of passion that makes him want to—

“Can I kiss you?” Jaehwan breathes out.

“Yes. Please, _yes_.”

Jaehwan gets up on shaking legs. The chair is barely two steps away, but he worries that he can’t make it. Daniel gets up too and takes his hand, leading him over to Seongwoo with steady guidance. His legs are against the chair now and he’s overridden with want, with passion, and he knows that Seongwoo knows how much he wants this. That thought makes him flush, suddenly embarrassed, but it also sends him forward. Without even realising what he’s doing, he’s straddling the chair, straddling _Seongwoo_ , and then there’s an arm around his waist and Daniel is still clutching his hand and lips meet his and this is _not_ a dream— it’s better.

They kiss, and they kiss, and they kiss. Jaehwan loses himself in the feeling. The feeling of warm lips against his own, of Daniel’s hand now brushing up his thigh. The feeling of Seongwoo’s hand starting to trail beneath his shirt. He forgets everything but this feeling. When they break apart and he opens his eyes to the light of the living room, it feels like he’s been dunked in ice water even though there’s a warmth coiling just below his stomach.

“We could die tomorrow,” Seongwoo says.

“Wow, way to ruin the mood,” Jaehwan replies.

Seongwoo leans his closer again, staring into his eyes. Jaehwan can feel his breath against his lips and all he wants is to dive in and kiss them again.

“We could. It’s a fact,” Daniel adds. “And...I’ve decided that I don’t want to die with any regrets.” He squeezes tighter on Jaehwan’s thigh. There’s a smile on his face, almost like he’s laughing at himself or the situation they’ve found themselves in, but his next words are serious and make that feeling below his stomach burn even more, spreading out so that he can barely breathe with how much he _wants_.

“Do you want any regrets, Jaehwan?”

No. He doesn’t. He wants this. He wants them. _God, does he want them_.

“No, I don’t,” Jaehwan breathes.

Seongwoo smiles at him.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

 

* * *

 

Sungwoon wakes up to the light patter of rain on the window and lets out a bitter laugh. Really, the rain is no surprise, it’s been on and off the last few weeks. Yet it feels like some kind of joke the universe is playing on him— a cheap, stereotypical narrative device to remind him what today is.

He looks at his arm instead— skin wrapped over tendons wrapped over bone. He’d broken it once, in third grade, falling out of a tree. The human body is annoyingly, beautifully delicate. Maybe he should have majored in bio instead of physics. Maybe he should just stop thinking so much.

He pulls himself out of bed and into the bathroom. His shower is quick. As he gets ready he can’t help but feel like he should be doing something more. What do you even wear to an enemy base? Armour? Camo? Hawaiian shirts? There’s no social rulebook.

In the end, he puts on the same kind of thing he wears everyday and leaves his room; in doing so, he runs into Jaehwan, leaving Daniel’s room with badly hidden lovebites trailing up his neck.

Sungwoon blinks. “I’m not gonna ask.”

“Cool.” Jaehwan nods, and heads past Sungwoon and into the bathroom.

For once, he’s not the first one down for breakfast. The kitchen is bustling with life. He can smell salt and smoke and sugar and belatedly realises they’re combining their minimal cooking skills to make breakfast.

“Sungwoon!” Jisung shouts to him. “Look after the eggs.”

Suddenly, he’s shoved in front of a sizzling pan. The kitchen is chaos, but in the best way— it’s loud and bright and makes him forget about the rain outside. He looks up at the clock; it’s ten a.m. The text they got said to go to the address at six p.m. Eight hours to go. It’s an annoyingly long time. It’s a terrifyingly short time.

Either way, they should probably make the most of it.

“Sungwoon, can you help me with my science project?” Daehwi asks over breakfast.

“What is it?” Sungwoon asks.

“It’s an example of harmonic oscillation.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sungwoon replies. “When is it due?”

“Next tuesday,” Daehwi answers him, shovelling french toast into his mouth.

There’s something calming about that— about making plans for the future. They’re going to be okay. They’ve gotten through everything life has thrown at them so far. They can get through this too.

He thinks about his own outlying assignments. He hasn’t even touched them since...that day. The day he made the hardest decision of his life and broke off one of the best things that had ever happened to him. He normally gets all his work done way ahead of time, but lately he hasn’t been able to find the motivation. Maybe, deep down, he thought there was no point, because he thought he might not have a future after this. But as easy as it is, he shouldn’t think like that.

He can’t lose more than he already has.

Surprisingly, even with eleven people preparing breakfast, they manage to finish all of it. Normally, after a lot of food, he’d be tired— relaxed and satisfied. Today, he only feels energised. Apparently, the mood is universal. There’s an upbeat air in the room. Logically, this is he the opposite of how they should be feeling. But it doesn't matter, because they’re all together. Together, they’ll always be happy.

The rain outside clears without them even noticing. The sun is shining, weak and bordering on grey but undeniably there. Without having to talk about it, they end up in the backyard. Sungwoon falls into a deck chair and a cold smoothie is thrust into his hand, He takes a sip and smiles.

“Woojin! Arm wrestle with me!” Daehwi commands.

“...Why?” Woojin asks.

“Aw, are you worried you’ll lose?”

Woojin hits Daehwi with a scrutinising look, then his lips quirk into smile.

“You’re going down.”

Sungwoon watches, amused, and both of them position themselves on either side of the table. Jisung ends up with the duty of counting down to the match, and suddenly they’re both throwing their all into the impromptu match.

“This is...nothing.” Daehwi says, clearly struggling.

“Then why are you having such a hard time?” Woojin smirks, but it doesn’t look like he’s finding it as easy as he's making out.

“I’m just giving you a chance,” Daehwi taunts.

“Yeah, because you’d be that nice to me,” Woojin  snorts. Then, he moves faster than Sungwoon can see and has Daehwi’s arm pinned.

“That’s not fair!” Daehwi jumps to his feet. “You used your power! Jisung, tell him that’s not fair!”

Jisung shakes his head fondly. “You never said it was against the rules.”

Daehwi gapes, then stomps his foot and turns back to Woojin. “That’s it: rematch!”

Woojin is more than happy to comply, but this time, when he wraps his hand in Daehwi’s and the countdown ends, he’s immediately blown back by a blue light. He loses his grip and focus, then the forcefield disappears and Daehwi has grabbed Woojin’s  hand and pinned his arm before the other even gets his bearings.

“Thats— that’s— “

“Not fair?” Daehwi teases.

Woojin smiles. “Incredible.I’m proud of you, Daehwi.”

Daehwi blushes, but says “Well, I’ve been working really hard. Don’t get sappy about it.”

Woojin rolls his eyes. “Sure, no sappiness here, promise.”

“Anyone else wanna go up against me?” Daehwi asks, still hiding his blush.

Sungwoon has never considered the concept of superpowered armwrestling before, but if anyone can make it a thing, his friends can. The matches go like this:

Daehwi vs. Jinyoung: Jinyoung fights off the forcefield trick that Daehwi used on Woojin by turning incorporeal and pins his arm while he’s still focusing on holding the forcefield.

Jinyoung vs. Seongwoo: Seongwoo doesn’t even seem to try, then puts on an overdramatic performance after he loses. He tells Daniel that Jinyoung has irreparably damaged his hand, and Daniel responds by challenging him to another match.

Daniel vs. Seongwoo: They banter flirtatiously, trying to throw each other off. Daniel ends up winning.

Daniel vs. Jisung: Jisung laughs when their hands touch and proceeds to whisper something into Daniel’s ear. Daniel blushes and sputters and Jisung wins.

“Jihoon...do you want a turn? If you use your power you can easily rig the match.” Jisung is laughing, but Jihoon is serious when he says “You know I don’t use my power...like that.”

The 'like that' isn’t necessary because as far as Sungwoon remembers (and, obviously, he remembers everything) Jihoon has _never_ used his powers. Not outside training, anyway, and even then that’s rare. He remembers the one time that Jihoon admitted that he’s scared of his own abilities. So scared that he won’t even try. Sungwoon can’t blame him.

“Jihoon,” Jisung’s tone is suddenly serious too. They’re all spread out in this little section of garden, but suddenly Sungwoon feels like he’s walked in on something personal. He doesn’t really mind, but some people are clearly caught up in the change of atmosphere, either watching intently or fidgeting uncomfortably. “I believe in you, you know that right? You can control your powers. You’re not the same person you were when we first met.”

For a moment, Jihoon looks like he’s thinking, but then he shakes his head. “It’s not worth the risk.”

Jisung doesn’t push it. Jihoon’s words are clearly final, and today isn’t a day for an argument. With the mood altered, they all relax. Not awkward, simply quieter. Jaehwan falls into the deck chair next to his.

“Hey,” Jaehwan nods to him, raising his drink. It’s the same kind of smoothie that Sungwoon has. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Sungwoon asks.

Jaehwan snorts. “Well, you just broke up with your boyfriend, so there’s that.”

Sungwoon flinches at the reminder. He’d managed not to think about Taehyun for a little while there. Now, the ache is back in full force. It’s only been a few days, but he misses him. He misses having that steady presence to rely on, he misses the (often late) good morning texts, he misses Taehyun.

“That’s not important right now,” he dismisses. “I can’t worry about Taehyun. This is about us.”

It’s the first time anyone has mentioned what’s happening later today since they woke up that morning. At least, as far as Sungwoon has heard. He loses the easy feeling he had just moments ago, dread seeping back in. He lets it. He can’t forget what’s important.

“Okay, that’s true.” Jaehwan shrugs. “But not everything is about us. What about after today? You love us, but there’s nothing wrong with having other people you care about in your life too. You shouldn’t just push them away.”

“I did what I had to,” Sungwoon insists, but it sounds tired to his own ears. “I...even after this, even if we get through it and never face this kind of danger again...I can never tell him the truth.”

The truth: that, by Taehyun’s standards, he is something impossible and unheard of. He spent a year hiding his powers from him. He kept him away from his house, and his friends, his past. If anything, their relationship itself was built on Sungwoon’s lies, and that never would have changed. He would have had to spend the rest of his life hiding a huge part of himself, knowing that he was lying to someone he didn’t want to lie to.

“Why not?” Jaehwan’s voice interrupts his musings.

“Wh— what?”

“Why can’t you tell him?”

“Because...I just can’t. We don’t tell people about our powers. It’s like a rule!”

“We don’t tell people we don’t trust, no. Finding someone we feel we can trust with information like that isn’t easy. We’re lucky we found so many people who understand us—” he gestures around the garden. “- so, it’s not a fact that you can’t tell him. It’s a question. Do you trust him?”

Sungwoon can’t think for a moment. He...he’s never really thought about it like that. He’d always just took it as fact that telling Taehyun was something he couldn’t do, a decision he couldn’t make, even though he’s the one who chose not to tell him in the first place. Does he trust Taehyun? He’s trusted him with so many other parts of him— his worst moments, his inner demons, his body, his heart. In retrospect, the answer is easy.

“Yeah, I trust him.”

“Good. Then when we come out the other side of this, tell him. We’ll all be here for you.”

Sungwon snorts, hiding how touched he feels. “What, did finally getting your dream boys into bed make you all emotional?”

“I— “ Jaehwan splutters. “You said you wouldn’t say anything.”

“That was before you started to talk about my love life. Fair’s fair.” Sungwoon shrugs. “So, are they your boyfriends now?”

“I— I...yeah. Yeah, they are.” There’s a gentle smile on Jaehwan’s face, one of pure contentment, free of the emotional turmoil he’s been feeling since he started to like them.

Sungwoon has a smile of his own as he takes another sip on his drink.

 

* * *

 

Five p.m.

It’s one hour to go until they’re meant to be at the location, whatever and wherever that is.

An hour until they hopefully end all this for good.

An hour until he maybe, finally, finds out where Jonghyun is.

An hour until that vision that still plagues him might come true.

Sometimes, he hates his power. It never tells him _when_ , or _where_ , or _why_ , just the vague essence of _what_. Jisung’s power is like his, in a way, but he gets clear images and all the facts while Minhyun just gets whispers. Maybe it’s because nothing can be done about the past, but you can change the future. When he thinks about it, about having the complete power to know everything that’s going to happen and change it on a whim, he doesn’t want that either.

But the future isn’t set in stone. He _can_ change something like this, even with the little information he has...right?

He gets to his feet purely to get out of his head. He knows there’s no point thinking about this. He’s been thinking about it for weeks. There’s nothing he can do, not here, in the hallway surrounded by his friends all getting ready to leave.

“Everyone ready?” Jisung asks.

It’s not a real question. Life doesn’t wait until you’re ready to throw its worst at you. You just have to meet it head on despite how unprepared you feel, and pick up the pieces later.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Minhyun breathes.

They decide to walk to the location. It’s not _that_ far, and it’s less conspicuous than showing up in two cars. They don’t even know where they’re going or if they _could_ be dropped off. They have the address, but when they looked it up to see what’s actually there they couldn’t find any details. They’d thought about going by there yesterday to scope it out, but it seemed too risky...what if he found out they were there? Nothing good could come of that.

Minhyun hates going in blind, but what else can they do?

Now that the rain has cleared up, it’s a surprisingly nice day. The breeze is refreshing, brushing his skin, reminding him he is alive. People walk around them, lively and animated and innocent. They probably have no idea of the kind of world Minhyun had found himself living in from the day he discovered his powers, and he’s both jealous of them and sorry for them. They aren’t walking their way into the dark right now, unsure what's waiting for them, fearing the future. But, it’s thanks to his powers that he has what he has now. Without it, he probably never would have met his friends… new or old.

In this moment, with the clarity granted by the harsh breeze and the fear of death, he regrets having pushed all his old friends away for the past year. They hadn’t deserved it. He knows that. At first, it was because he was incapable of caring about anything or anyone but Jonghyun. But, in time, it was because he found a new family to support him. That isn’t fair to them either. They can’t be replaced. They still matter to him as much as the people around him now do.

Whatever he discovers about Jonghyun at this place, if anything, he should reach out to his other friends when he comes out the other side.

Eventually, they come up on the address they’ve been searching for, and Minhyun’s heart starts jackhammering in his chest. In front of him is a huge, solitary warehouse. They’re a little out of the inhabited parts of the city, meaning there’s not even any houses in sight. They’re alone out here. That fact is surprisingly comforting.

“What now?” Woojin asks, craning his neck up at the building.

They’re silent. How are they supposed to know what to do now? They have no real plan. They’ve never done anything like this before. Even the hotel didn’t feel like this. Maybe they always knew it wasn’t the boss, because Minhyun doesn’t remember being as afraid then as he is now.

Or maybe it’s the gnawing familiarity of this place. He’s probably being stupid and making connections where there aren’t any. Surely all abandoned warehouses look more or less the same? Still, he can’t help but remember one of the worst visions of his life. The one he had before Jonghyun slipped from his grasp and never came home. It probably isn't the same one. It can’t be. If it is, he’s not sure he can face it.

“I guess...we go in?” Jinyoung offers.

Minhyun looks up at the building again. The entrance is right there, double metal doors built into unpainted concrete, huge and intimidating on the sparse grass. He doesn’t know what's waiting for them in there, he doesn’t know _who’s_ waiting for them in there. He knows it’s only the mystery that makes the building intimidating, because it’s truly unassuming. But that just makes it worse, the outside offers no clues to what they’re walking into.

“Guess we have no choice.” Woojin nods.

Woojin moves first. His steps are slower than Minhyun has ever seen them. He seems so small in the shadow of the huge building. Woojin takes one step, then another, then another, until he’s a foot away from the door. He pauses for a moment, collecting himself, then takes another step. Minhyun’s world turns white. Scraps of metal fly in every direction.. The boom of the landmine echoes relentlessly in Minhyun’s head. It all happens so fast that he doesn’t realise what’s happening until it’s already over.

“Woojin!” He screams, or at least, he thinks he does.

“Wow,” a voice comes from behind him. “Good thing I’m fast.”

Minhyun turns around to see Woojin stood there, winded but grinning. A closer look tells Minhyun that he’s shaking, but they all are. It doesn’t matter. He wraps Woojin up in his arms.

He isn’t sure if Woojin is laughing or crying when he returns the hug and says “What the hell have we gotten ourselves into now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you may have noticed, i finally added the amount of chapters. I may change it later because it's a) an estimate and b) i'm debating an epilogue but most importantly b) we're finally coming up to the end. that makes me kind of emotional, but i'm leaving all the sappy stuff to the last chapter, so for now lets just to say...thanks for reading, i love you, comments and kudos are my life essence etc.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad I got this done today, if only because it's apparently the anniversary of the first chapter being posted. Time sure flies, i guess? I hope this chapter is worth the past year of build-up!

After the scare of the explosion Daehwi, along with everybody else, took a few moments to breathe and make sure that Woojin was okay. After that, despite the fact that the urge to turn back was now stronger than ever, they pressed forward. To avoid stepping on any more landmines, they threw some rocks ahead of them, but the path seemed clear. Thankfully, whoever was in this place had deemed one high level explosive enough.

That brought them to now, still standing in front of the door. It seemed like once they went through there, they’d be past the point of no return. Despite none of them honestly believing they should go back, it wasn’t easy to lose the option entirely.

“What if the door is rigged to explode? Like...congrats, you passed the landmine, kaboom…” Jinyoung muses.

“Then how does he get in and out? This is the only door.” Daehwi points out.

“...Secret door?” Jinyoung suggests.

“That’s a little too supervillain-lair…” Daehwi doubts.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out when we open the door!” Seongwoo announces, far too cheerily, and skips forward to throw the door open before anyone can stop him.

Thankfully, nothing happens. Seongwoo holds the door as they all file into the warehouse, taking small, tentative steps and practically clutching each other.

The door closes behind them. The outside world is left behind. Daehwi makes sure not to look back. He squashes down his fear and stares ahead. He’d been expecting to walk into a large open space. A warehouse is normally just one big room, right? But there’s walls on either side of them, forming a wide hallway that feels almost narrow with all of them in it. The walls are sleek metal, like the door they walked through, not blemished by any decoration or even other doors. The only door is in front of them, far enough away that the hallway looms dauntingly in front of them.

“What is this place? Why does it exist?” Minhyun asks.

It’s a good question. Daehwi doesn’t know what he was expecting, but this modified warehouse seems like...too much. Who goes to the effort? He’s had his powers since a young age, he is surrounded by people with powers everyday, but suddenly he feels like he doesn’t understand what having a power truly means. This place, the attack on his school, even the crime syndicate that Woojin was once part of...it’s like another world. A side of having powers that Daehwi hasn’t seen before, where they’re used for people to get what they want, where people almost define themselves by what they can do. Why would they do that? Is it just that Daehwi was lucky, to have things in the world that kept him grounded and gave his life meaning, that he didn’t have to fall into a life like this? Or is there some true malevolence hiding behind people who can do what they can do?

“Maybe it's just for the drama of it all,” Guanlin suggests. “More importantly…” He points up to the ceiling, bringing Daehwi’s attention to a blinking security camera. “ I’m going to shut it off, but I can’t guarantee he doesn’t already know we’re here.”

Daehwi hopes that he doesn’t. They really have little going for them except for sheer numbers, their powers, and the element of surprise.

Gaunlin spends a moment on the camera, tall enough to reach the admittedly low ceiling with little effort. It stops blinking, and for a second everything is fine, and then, because Daehwi’s life in insane and nothing can go well for longer than five minutes, footsteps clatter down the hall and he turns to see a man stood in front of the door, glaring down at them.

Daehwi acts on instinct, and gets the forcefield up just fast enough to block the sudden blast of pure ice speeding towards them.

The forcefield stretches across the width of the hallway and the blast of frost falls pathetically to the floor. The mysterious man doesn’t look perturbed, of course he doesn’t, because he just shot ice from his hands.

“You think that will stop me?!” The man shouts, not hiding his aggressiveness.

Daehwi needs to focus to keep the forcefield from faltering, but he can’t help but wonder. Who is this guy? Is it the guy they’re looking for? It can’t be, right? They know the man they’re looking for manipulates perceptions, not ice. But if he’s not who they’re looking for, why is he here? Is he working for that guy? He has to be, right?

“What do we do?” Guanlin breathes.

Their only way out of here is the door that the strange man is blocking. They need to get past him somehow.

“I’ll handle this,” Woojin says resolutely. “Daehwi, drop the forcefield for a second, just enough to let me pass.”

Daehwi wants to protest, to ask what he’s planning to do, but he doesn’t have the chance or the time. They knew they were getting into something dangerous when they came here, agreed to it as soon as they walked through the double doors. Daehwi can’t stop Woojin just because it might be dangerous, they each made their choice.

Instead of dropping the forcefield entirely, he shrinks it, so that there’s enough room at the sides for Woojin to slip out while keeping the rest of them covered. It’s a bold move, something he’s only practiced before, but thankfully it works. Daehwi smiles to himself.

Woojin sneaks out into the open, and the man's eyes zero in on him immediately. He huffs, gets ready to blast him again, it hits the forcefield again, Woojin is behind him. When the man realises he seems to go from aggressive to outright angry. His back stiffens, his muscles tense. He lunges for Woojin and Daehwi can do nothing but protect the rest of his friends and hope.

In the end, it’s not much of a fight. Woojin is too fast to be hit. There’s ice freezing the walls but Woojin remains unscathed. The only thing that seems to draw it out is Woojin figuring out his own move, but suddenly the guy is on the floor, clearly unconscious.

Daehwi lets the forcefield fall and they rush towards the scene.

“What happened?” he asks.

Woojin shifts, awkward. “I punched him while I was still running. I’ve never done it, but I guess with the speed of it a single punch was all it took to knock him out.”

“Wait,” Jaehwan says suddenly, staring down at the unconscious body on the floor with a frown. “I know this guy.”

“What?” Daehwi blinks.

“When I was with the police. My first real assignment was this guy who got robbed by his brother. He called again to say his brother was breaking in, and when we got there they were arguing. The brother—  Taemin— attacked me with a blast of ice. This is him.”

“Oh my god,” Jisung gasps. “You’re right.”

“What the hell is he doing here?!” Jaehwan asks.

“I...I don’t know…” Jisung trails off, clearly not happy to have all the information.

“Are you sure that’s where you know him from?” Guanlin asks.

“Definitely. Why?”

Guanlin shakes his head. “No reason.”

“I don’t know how long he’ll stay out for,” Woojin says. “We should probably get going.”

The door stands in front of them, now unblocked. Daehwi prepares himself to create another forcefield, just in case, not knowing what’s waiting on the other side of the door. He doesn’t notice who pushed it open, he just follows everyone else through it.

They end up in another stretch of empty hallway, as unremarkable as the last, practically an exact copy. No, not exactly. This time, there’s a door in front of them, but there’s also one on their right hand side, a little in front of the other door. Both are unmarked, with no windows or any hint as to where they lead. A crossroads.

“No one coming to attack us this time?” Seongwoo breathes after a moment.

“...Doesn't seem like it,” Minhyun says. “But still, don’t let your guard down.”

Even with no one attacking them, Daehwi can’t relax. The hallways are claustrophobic, too plain and too small. Everything is uncertain. Anything could jump out at them at any moment. The only thing stopping him from completely panicking is that he has his family at his side, but as much as they make him feels safe they’re also another thing he has to worry about.

“So...which door?”

“The one in front of us, right? We need to keep going, not get distracted,” Jihoon says.

“But we don’t even know where we’re going. For all we know, forwards leads to a dead end and the guy is in that room right next door,” Jaehwan argues.

“I guess...we try both of them? We’ll try the one on the right first if that works for everyone?”

Daehwi nods. He doesn’t really have an opinion either way. None of them do. They’re just working off their instincts. They reach the door unscathed, with no one in the hallway but them. This time, they don’t hesitate to push the door open. There’s nothing to gain from waiting , and they’re quickly adjusting to wandering their way through the warehouse.

Unlike the hallway, this room is more than metal walls and dusty floor. The walls are plaster painted a dark beige. There’s a carpet laid across the floor, but none of that it what interests Daehwi. There’s a desk pushed up against the back wall, a computer resting on top of it, and an uncomfortable looking plastic chair.There’s shelves on either side of them, filled with books and files. This is clearly an office or study, and seems thoroughly out of place with the barren, industrial hallways he’s already started growing accustomed to.

Guanlin makes a beeline for the computer before the rest of them can even take it all in.

“What are you doing?” Daehwi asks.

“This is that guy’s warehouse, right? I doubt anyone else is using it, or something would have been done about how straight up weird it is. So, that means this is his computer. There could be something important on here, maybe even who he is.”

That would be infinitely helpful. Honestly, Daehwi is tired of all the mystery. He wants answers. He wants a real plan. Guanlin sits down on the chair and lifts his fingers to the keyboard. A second later, an alarm starts blaring all around them.

“What the everloving fuck is that?” Jaehwan says, just loud enough to be heard over the alarm and Daehwi’s hands covering his ears.

“I...I think I got the password wrong? But— I’m sorry. I’ll shut it off,” Guanlin shouts back.

There’s a screech from behind them. Daehwi turns to see a thick sheet of metal descending before the door, shutting them in.

He runs towards it, panicked, but there’s nothing he can do. He’s not strong enough to hold it up. He tries, but the metal keeps forcing it’s way downwards and he has to pull back before his fingers get crushed. He watches, helpless, as it hits the floor, taking away their only exit.

 

* * *

 

Jinyoung doesn’t notice that the door is blocked until Guanlin finally, finally, shuts off the alarm. He breathes out a sigh of relief, letting his hands fall away from his ears. The silence is a brief moment of heaven, but of course it doesn’t last.

“Guys. We’re locked in.” Daehwi says.

“I’m really sorry,” Guanlin shrugs apologetically. “I think it’s a security measure that was activated by me inputting the wrong password on the computer.”

“The wrong password?” Jinyoung frowns. “How did _you_ get the wrong password?”

“This may look like a regular computer, but this software is more advanced than anything I’ve dealt with before. There’s layers upon layers of false code and firewalls covering the actual information.”

“That means that whatever is on there is important, right?”

“If it’s not, then all this is really unnecessary,” Guanlin snorts.

“So what do we do?” Woojin interrupts. “Do we look for whatever is on there? Or do we work on getting out of here.”

“There should be a way to shut off the security system, right? If it was activated by the computer then that means that’s probably how we deactivate it too, right?”

“That’s a good point.” Woojin nods. “Guanlin, work your magic. The rest of us will...chill, I guess!”

There really is nothing for the rest of them to do while Guanlin types away at the computer. The room is devoid of any entertainment except for all the files and books lining the shelves. There’s not even anywhere to sit except for the chair that Guanlin is rightfully occupating. So, Jinyoung elects to do what anyone else would do in this situation, and investigate.

He settles on the floor in front of the shelf full of files and pulls one out at random, opening it up.

“Snooping?” Daehwi asks, plopping down beside him.

“Investigating,” Jinyoung responds, not looking up from the file.

“You’re totally snooping,” Daehwi insists, grabbing a file of his own.

Jinyoung studies the pages in front of him for a few moments, not understanding it. The contents are straightforward enough, he just doesn’t understand why it’s _here_.

“Hey, Daehwi. What does yours say?”

“It’s about someone called...Kang Hyewon. Born in 1999. She’s a programming student at one of the top universities in the country, and apparently she’s the best student there too. She’s been making breakthroughs left and right, basically. Her...there’s a whole diagram here, of who her family is, who her friends are...it’s stalkerish.”

“Mine’s like that too.” Jinyoung shakes his head, still confused. “Seong Hyunwoo. An up and coming private detective.”

“...Their family and friends all being listed here...that was the boss’ power right? And whoever this guy is used that to manipulate them against their target?”

“So…” The truth sinks into Jinyoung with sickeningly heavy realisation. “These are all people he’s done that to?”

Slowly, they pull out file after file. Each one of them is the same, listing all the details of different people. The names all stick in Jinyoung’s mind— Im Nayoung, Ju Haknyeon, Byun Hyunmin, Park Haeyoon, Takahashi Juri, Han Hyeri, and so many more— these are all people who went through the same thing that Woojin and Jihoon went through, and unlike them, they probably didn’t have a friend with such an incredible memory that they could break through the manipulation. They are more like the boss, they’re living their lives with everyone they once knew hating them, and they probably don’t even understand why.

Jinyoung has no idea who these people are, not really, not past anything he’s read in these disgusting, impersonal files, but he resolves then and there to help each and every one of them.

“There’s so many of them,” Daehwi breathes. “This thing is so big. This guy has been doing this for who knows long, and no one even knew.”

“We know now,” Jinyoung says. “We’ll fix this. It’s not too late.”

Daehwi nods and reaches for another file, pulling it off the shelf.

“Oh,” he gasps when he has it open in front of him. “It’s Woojin’s.”

Jinyoung leans over to peek at the file. Daehwi is right. It has Park Woojin written after the name, and lists basic facts like his birth year and his current known address. In the space that normally has diagrams of friends and family is all of their names.

It’s nothing they don’t know, so despite the weird feeling it instills in Jinyoung to find a file on one of his best friends in a place like this, they move on.

The next file is Jihoon’s.

The one after that is Jinyoung’s.

“...What?” He asks, reading it over again. “But...I was never…”

“This one is mine,” Daehwi says, holding up yet another file.

They quickly make their way through the files on that particular shelf. Each of belongs to someone in this room.

“Maybe...he was planning to do it to all of us? But didn’t get around to it,” Daehwi suggests.

“But how?” Jinyoung demands. “That boss guy doesn’t know our names, right? We only met him a couple of days ago, and we didn’t tell him anything like that.”

“That Hyunmin guy whose file we found… he’s a private detective. Maybe this guy has the people in these files working for him somehow? It probably wouldn’t be too hard to manipulate someone into doing what you want if that person has no one else. Hyewon...her programming skills would explain the advanced software that Guanlin mentioned. A private detective watching us would explain the information in these files.”

Jinyoung looks at his file again, not sure if what he should feel was a burning rage or a nauseating acceptance. It has his full name, his school, his address. It has the names of all his friends listed. There is also his mother’s name, but not his father’s— the detective probably hasn’t managed to find that yet.

His life could have been ruined. He’d only narrowly avoided that. A little bit longer, and they probably would have come after him too. He puts the file back on the shelf. His life isn’t ruined. His life's going great. Once this is all over, his life will be the best it’s ever been.

They need to end this, not only for their sake but for the sake of the people in these files, the ones who weren’t as lucky as them.

“Guanlin!” Jinyoung tries to get his attention. “How’s it going over there?”

Guanlin doesn’t look back, but thankfully he answers. “I finally got through the password. There’s...actually only a handful of files on here, and most of them are encrypted. The ones that aren’t—” he pauses for a moment, clicking something on the screen and reading it. “This is just...a list of dates and locations? As well as some notes like ‘reported by tourist who asked him to take a picture of them’ or ‘security footage— too short?’”

Jinyoung nods. He doesn’t know what any of that means, but it’s not his main concern right now. “The boss gave us a specific time to be here, right? If we take too long getting out of this room...we could miss our shot.”

“And that brings me to the other unencrypted file. It’s an explanation of the security system and...oh...the only way to open the door after a shutdown is set off another alarm and wait someone to push the button on the outside to open it…”

There’s silence for a moment. Jinyoung can clearly see everyone around him wondering what to do now, until he speaks up.

“Oh, well why didn’t you say so earlier?”

None of them have time to respond before he disappears right in front of their eyes, though he’s still there and can see their faces as the realisation of what his plan is hits them. Without wasting any more time, he gets up from where he was sitting and walks toward, then through, the door.

The hallway is exactly as they left it. Thankfully, whatever measures were triggered by the computer seem to be restricted to that one room. He finds the button easily. It’s a fairly small thing on the wall next to the door, it’s not surprising they missed it when they were first here. He presses it and immediately hears the muffled, metallic sound of what he can only presume is the metal rising again on the other side of the door. His suspicions are confirmed when everyone comes rushing out and into the hall. He lets himself turn corporeal again and waves to them.

“I saved all the files from the computer onto this USB stick,” Guanlin waves it in front of Jinyoung’s face before slipping it into his pocket. “Whatever was on there, I’ll figure it out later. Like you said, we need to focus on finding this guy first. That’s why we came here.”

“Okay then,” Jinyoung breathes, turning towards the other door, the one at the end of the hallway. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Seongwoo walks through the door expecting another identical stretch of hallway (honestly, if you’re going to transform a warehouse into a base, at least do some interior decorating) so he’s surprised to find another room instead. While the office room was sparsely decorated, this room is the complete opposite. The floor is a junkpit of...he can’t even see what, because once the door closes behind them it’s practically pitch black.

“Is there even a door in here?” He asks aloud. He’s scanning the walls, but he can’t make anything out but darkness so heavy it seems to flicker and shift as his vision adjusts.

“Did we hit a dead end?” Daniel asks.

“How can there be a dead end?” He argues. “We haven’t seen any more doors...if this is a dead end then…”

“Great,” Jaehwan snorts. “We came all this while for some files and a pile of junk.”

“That can’t be right. The boss told us to come here!” Jisung says.

“In case you’re forgetting, he’s a bad guy. Until the other day, we thought he was the one behind all this. How do we know he didn’t trick us?” Seongwoo doesn’t want this to be a dead end, but he’s starting to believe it. He really can’t see a way out, and he knows they didn’t miss anything on the way here. “...But maybe we can sell some of this junk on Ebay, so it’s not all—uhh, Daniel, babe, please stop grabbing my arm.”

“I’m not?” Daniel says, and sure enough, his voice sounds too far away. Seongwoo is pretty sure he can see his outline by the door they just came through.

“Okay. Jaehwan, honey, please stop grabbing my arm,” he tries instead.

“I’m kind of busy over here!” He shouts from by the back wall, again, too far to reach Seongwoo. “And honey? Really? We’ll have to work on that.”

“We can argue about pet names later!” Seongwoo proclaims. “Right now, seriously, who is grabbing my arm?!”

“Maybe you’re just going crazy?” Jaehwan snorts.

“There’s so much stuff in here. You probably got your sleeve on it or some— okay who the fuck just touched my ankle?!” Sungwoon snaps.

A horrible realisation starts to dawn on Seongwoo, but before he has time to voice it, the world starts to speed past in infinite darkness and he hears a harsh, solid _thud_. It takes him longer than it should to realise that he’s been thrown across the room. He’s going to blame that on the pounding in his head and the ringing in his ears.

“Guys,” he speaks up, smiling as best as he can through the pain. “I don’t think we’re alone in here.”

Sungwoon crashes into the ground, his body flying through the clutter on the floor until he crashes into the wall next to Seongwoo.

“Yeah, no shit,” he grits out.

Seongwoo drags himself into a sitting position and searches around the room for their mystery assailant. All he sees are stars. Stars in the blackness— For a moment, he’s outside, staring up at the night sky. Revelling in the infinite nature of the universe, feeling so small yet part of something bigger, surrounded by the people he loves most. He blinks, and he’s back in a dark room with the oncoming symptoms of a concussion— still so small, still part of something bigger, still surrounded by the people he loves most.

The people who seem to have no better luck finding their assailant than he did.

“I know it’s dark in here, but this is ridiculous,” he hears Daehwi stress.

_Crash. The sound of Daniel swearing in pain._

_“Are they invisible? That’s possible, right?”_

_“Holy fuck!”_

_“That’s...not a hand….”_

_Bang. He doesn’t recognise who the shouts belong to this time._

The words and sounds float around uselessly in his mind, not really sinking in. He tries to get to his feet. His legs feel like toothpicks wrapped in cotton. He manages it...he thinks. It’s hard to tell through the dark in the room and the fog in his mind.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” A very unfamiliar, very female voice finally breaks through the fog and brings him back to himself. In the back of his mind, he thinks she only sounds the tiniest bit sorry. In the front of his mind, he’s still trying to find her.

_Smack._

_“Ouch”_

All Seongwoo sees is the shadow of another one of his friends getting tossed around like they weigh nothing.

Shadows…

Seongwoo desperately tries to figure out where that train of thought is going.

Shadows….

You can’t see shadows in the dark. They _are_ the dark.

“...You...you can control shadows…” he manages to say.

“Well done.” he thinks he hears a smile in the voice. “I can shroud myself in them, and I can use them as my weapons. To beat me, I’m afraid you’ll have to find me first.”

“How hard can it be?” he spits back. “It’s not a big room. You can’t hide forever.”

“Spread out!” Jisung orders. “Search everywhere...and be careful.”

“I...I think her voice is coming from somewhere over there,” Seongwoo can’t see what direction Jaehwan is gesturing in, which Jaehwan seems to realise a moment too late. “The...back wall? By the corner? I’d be able to tell better but...my ears are ringing...and why am I lying down?”

“That would be the concussion.”

“Oh...cool.”

Seongwoo heads off in the direction Jaehwan said...and immediately loses his balance. He can’t tell if it’s because of all the stuff on the floor or just because of him, but either way he only just manages to catch himself. He pushes his hands up against the wall and uses it to keep himself steady as he continues.

What is he supposed to do once he gets there?

Can he fight? He can barely stand. He’s almost sure he’s not going alone, but at this point he has no idea who’s up and alert and who’s already been incapacitated like Jaehwan  (like _him_ , but even through the pain in his skull and the haze in his mind he’s sure he can’t give up...why can’t he give up? He suddenly can’t remember, but he keeps going anyway.)

He’s not sure if he’s seeing things or _seeing things_ when he notices a tendril of shadow flick out from the corner— like a whip, or maybe a snake, or something else he can’t even remember the word for right now— and wrap around Jisung’s ankle, pulling him to the floor. The grunt of pain seems to confirm it’s real, unless he’s hearing things now too.

He walks forward. Lets the wall be his guide. Baby steps. Hesitant so he doesn’t trip over anything. Ignores the ringing in his ears. Ignores that he can see even less now because his vision is funny. Walk forward. Baby steps. He reaches the other wall. Another tendril of shadow flies past his face, cracking the wall behind him. He’s hit with fear, regret, desperation, anger— none of it his, and oh yeah, _this_ is why he had to keep going. Because It doesn’t matter if he can’t see her. He can still _fight_ her.

He pulls on the fear first. He feels the way it grows, a dark, looming monster not unlike the shadows she’s using to attack them.

“If you’re so scared, then why are you doing this?” He shouts into the darkness. “You don’t have to do this. Give up now and we won’t hurt you.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then a gritted “I do have to.”

“Why?” He demands. It’s a genuine question, despite everything. Why is she doing this? Maybe he can accept that there’s someone as awful as the man they came here for out in the world, but why would people work for him?

He leaves her fear where it is and focuses on her regret instead.

“I— I have to,” She says again, without any prompting this time. A shadow hits his shoulder and it stings, but it retreats as her voice gets more desperate. “He said if I did all this...he’d give her back! He’d let her love me again! And I...I don’t _want_ this! I don’t want to hurt anyone but— “

“Then don’t,” the voice that speaks isn’t Seongwoo’s. It takes a few seconds, through the haze, but eventually he places it as Minhyun’s. “We will stop him! We’ll get her, whoever she is, back for you...whoever you are! He...I think he took someone I loved from me too, but this is not the answer. We’ll stop him, but first you have to stop yourself and let us out of here!”

Seongwoo still has fear and regret practically in his hands, ready to pull at and twist and manipulate without a second thought, but she starts to cry, and it’s not on him...not entirely, anyway.

To the girl’s credit, she picks herself up quickly, sobs disappearing into the dark. As they disappear, she appears, finally getting rid of the shadows that shrouded her. She stands in the corner opposite Seongwoo, head held high.

Silently, she walks to the centre of the room. They all watch her, obviously, tensing for the next attack, but it doesn’t come. Instead, she kneels on the floor, and suddenly light bursts into the room.

Seongwoo flinches, the light increases the pounding in his head tenfold, like he has a thousand man band in his brain demanding attention, demanding that he hurt, but he pushes it to the side. He blinks until his eyes adjust again.

A trapdoor. There’s a trapdoor in the floor. That’s where the light is suddenly coming from. That’s the way out of here they couldn’t find before. There’s a trapdoor, because of course there is.

“Go through the tunnels down here, and eventually you’ll find him,” she says, staring pensively at the apparent tunnels down below. “I’m trusting you here. You have to stop him, one way or another.”

Unsurprisingly, they’re all a little hesitant about trusting the stranger who just attacked them. But, it seems that that’s been their only choice lately. There’s no other way out of this room than the way they came. She said she trusts them. They’ll have to trust her too.

Seongwoo watches as they descend the ladder one by one, some of them struggling more than others. He elects to go last for no reason other than he feels like any sudden movements might make him throw up.

Minhyun is the last person to go before him. Seongwoo swears he hears him say “Jieqiong,” and her reply “Oh, you didn’t forget this time,” but honestly, who knows anymore?

Seongwoo doesn’t say anything to her as he climbs down the ladder, and she closes the door behind him without a word.

He hopes he can fix whatever it is she’s been put through.

When his feet hit solid ground again, he stumbles, and crashes into a wall for the third time that day.

Daniel is by his side in an instant, cradling his head. Slowly, the pain recedes and the fog dissipates. He still doesn’t feel like getting up again quite yet.

“Are you okay?” Seongwoo asks.

Daniel smiles. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Is Jaehwan okay?” He asks instead.

“Healed, but still kind of cranky,” Daniel laughs.

“I resent that,” Jaehwan mutters, sliding down the wall to sit next to Seongwoo.

“Everyone’s okay,” Daniel says again, before Seongwoo can ask anymore.

He nods, and finally takes a look around at their surroundings. The tunnel walls are..green? Grey? Even healed of his concussion, he’s not sure. The walls— whatever colour they are— arch into the ceiling, where dim— but still brighter than the last room, thank god— lights blink down at them. The floor he’s sat on is pure concrete, and he only realises how uncomfortable it is when he looks down. He gets to his feet with an over exaggerated groan.

When he looks to his right, he sees it’s a dead end, whereas on his left the tunnel turns a corner and continues. At least this time they don’t have to ask where to go.

 

* * *

 

On a silent note of agreement, they begin their trek through the tunnels. Their footsteps echo in the caverns, constantly following behind them. It makes Daniel feel like they’re not alone down here. He hopes they are, but he knows that’s probably asking too much.

The tunnels feel endless, stretching and twisting into new paths. Like so much else today, it should be ridiculous but feels all too fitting.

His legs ache as he walks. They turn another corner.

He tenses, expecting to find another person waiting to attack them.

Instead, he finds a screen with a glowing number ten.

It doesn’t make him any calmer.

“What is that?” Woojin asks.

“I...have no idea,” Daniel answers honestly.

It feels like something that they should talk about more, but there’s nothing more to say. No one understands what it means, and no matter how many theories they throw at the wall they probably won’t stick. There’s no more time to waste, so they keep walking.

“Hey, you okay?” Jaehwan asks, slowing down to walk alongside him.

Daniel smiles. “As best as I can be, in this situation, I guess. You?”

Jaehwan shakes his head. “It’s daunting. These stupid tunnels, this whole fucking warehouse. Why can’t he just face us? It’s like this entire place is a threat”

Daniel glances away from Jaehwan and forwards. The tunnel is long, the end shrouded in darkness. He shivers, suddenly afraid of the dark after their last encounter.

“If its a threat, then we can’t back down now,” Daniel says, trying to hide how afraid he really feels.

“I know that,” Jaehwan says firmly, then falters. “But...I’m scared. More than I thought I’d be. I...I don’t want last night and today to be the only time we got to spend together.”

Daniel’s heart flutters against his rib-cage. It’s not the gentle flutter of a butterfly, but rather the racing, quickfire hammering of a whole swarm taking flight at once. He feels like a teenager with a crush. It’s nice. He wasted his first and only real crush as an actual teenager in fear and self-hatred. He’s glad he got another chance.

“Don’t worry about that,” he says, and stops walking, just for a moment, to pull Jaehwan into a kiss.

“Hey!” A voice behind them shouts. “Kissing? _Now? Without me?!”_

Seongwoo throws his arms around both their shoulders with a grin. Daniel places a kiss on his cheek.

“We were having a moment.”

Seongwoo pouts. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want kisses.”

“Nine.”

Attention grabbed by Jisung’s words, they pull apart. Daniel follows his gaze, and sure enough, in front of them is another screen, this one lit up with the number nine.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Jinyoung offers.

Daniel can’t help but agree.

This time, the tunnel turns right. He chews his already chapped lip. The numbers are serving to instil a deep, echoing dread in him, though he can’t place why just yet. He walks forward, more nervous than before, eyes rapidly searching his surroundings, just waiting for _something_.

The further he gets down the new stretch of tunnel with nothing happening, the more his anxiety grows. He’s always thought the suspense of knowing something terrible is about to happen was worse than the thing itself. He wants to reach the end of these tunnels as fast as possible. But when they reach the end, there’s yet another single turning, nothing there but the vast expanse of underground, and the number eight.

“It’s a countdown,” he breathes.

They’re all thinking the same thing, even if he can’t see their faces as they stare ahead, shock robbing them of motion, it’s palpable in the air. Ten. Nine. Eight. It’s a countdown, which leaves one question.

“A countdown to what?”

What will happen when they reach zero? Countdowns don’t end in nothing. They end in rocket launches, in last chances, in winners being announced. What will they find at the end? An explosion? A last ditch effort? The result of all of this? Daniel doesn’t want to think about it. He can’t think about it.

It feels like they’ve been walking forever by now. They can’t have been. They all saw the warehouse from the outside, and it isn’t _that_ big. Unless these tunnels extend from outside of the building, they can’t have been wandering through them for more than ten minutes. And yet he feels exhausted, like he can’t make it much further. They’re at eight. How far away is zero? He has to reach zero.

“Do you think we’ll be okay?” Sungwoon says from next to him. “He already messed with our heads once. He could do it again. What if we find him and forget he’s the enemy? Start fighting among ourselves again?”

“That won’t happen.” Daniel shakes his head. He doesn’t even need to think about it. Even with all the uneasiness building in his core tunnel by tunnel, that’s one of the few things he’s not afraid of. “He might try, but we know better now. You broke us out of it by making us realise that what we thought was wrong. We know better than to believe it if our opinions suddenly change on us again.”

Sungwoon nods, but it’s not thoughtless like Daniel’s nod just a moment ago. Eventually he says, “You better be right.” while pointing at him accusingly.

Daniel laughs. It echoes, like most things seem to in this place, from their footsteps to the ceaseless sense of foreboding. His own laughter is turned back on him, suddenly taking on a haunting tone. It feels like the tunnels are mocking him for daring to, for a single moment, not be afraid. He doesn’t care. He’s going to grab every chance of happiness left to him.

“Even if I was wrong, I’m sure you’d save us all again.”

He sees the glow out of the corner of his eye. Knows what it without having to look. Seven. They’re so far away, but not far enough.

One of the lights on the ceiling is bust, leaving a brief patch of darkness. He rushes through it so fast it’s painful. Their footsteps continue to reverberate through the air, a little faster each time, like a swelling drum beat. He focuses on their voices instead. He can’t imagine being alone down here, with nothing but the harrowing echo of his own footsteps and the subtle groans and drips from the structure itself (at least, he wants to think that’s where they’re coming from). But thankfully, he’s not alone, and his friends won’t let him feel like he is. They continue to talk amongst themselves, even if, at this point, there’s so little to talk about. He hears theories about the countdown being thrown around (a trap, an enemy, a surprise party). He hears plans for tomorrow (homework, movies, sleep). He hears the brief pause when they come across the number six before the silence is immediately filled up again.

“Almost halfway there,” Jisung points out.

When they reach five a few minutes later, it reminds him that none of this is simple. For the first time since they were in the warehouse that still sits a few feet above them, there’s a fork in the road. Both paths look exactly the same, and Daniel can’t see where either of them lead from where he’s standing.

“Which way now?” He asks.

No one answers for a moment, instead staring down the tunnels analytically like they can figure it out from their eyes alone. In the end, Jaehwan is the first to offer a solution.

“We could split up?”

“No,” Daniel says immediately. Everyone's gaze turns to him.

“What if one of the paths is a trap? By the time one group reaches it, the others might be too far away to help.”

“That’s a good point.” Jaehwan relents.

Daniel lets out a subtle sigh of relief.

“I think we should go left,” Sungwoon says decisively. “With the tunnels we’ve walked through so far, I think taking that path—” he points right “would actually be us backtracking.”

There’s no argument. The rest of them haven’t really been paying attention to the direction they’ve been going in so far, but obviously Sungwoon would remember. They go left, and after a few steps, they’re greeted by the number four, and thankfully only one path to follow this time.

Daniel starts to slow down as they approach the number three. He hopes that when they reach the end it will mean no more walking.

Two: His anxiety can’t grow anymore but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t try.

One: A deep breath. The most determined steps that he can take.

Zero: A door.

“I guess this is it,” Jisung swallows.

“Zero,” Daniel says in agreement. “The end of the line.”

“What do you think is on the other side?” Seongwoo asks, staring at the door in front of them. It’s made of wood, almost homely in comparison to the metal doors from the warehouse. That doesn’t make it any less intimidating.

“I don’t know,” Daniel answers. “I’m ready to find out though.”

“Yeah, me too.” Jisung nods. “Let’s end this.”

Daniel’s heart beats frantically against his chest, like the echo of their footsteps, the beating of wings, a countdown. Jisung reaches for the door, pushing it open slowly. _Thump. Thump. Thump._  He can’t feel anything but his heartbeat as he watches the room behind the door come into view.

Three.

They step inside.

Two.

They notice the figure standing in front of them.

One.

The man in front of them doesn’t move. Neither do they.

Zero.

Jisung gasps, sharp in the heavy silence, and breathes out a name.

“Sewoon?”

The man smiles lazily.

“Hello, Officer Yoon.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...not the best point for me to not update for a month, I know. All I can say is college immediately threw me in the deep end this year and I lost a lot of time and all motivation for a while there.
> 
> also, you may have noticed I've upped the chapter count again. I decided this fic will have an epilogue, and hopefully that epilogue will resolve any plot threads not quite closed here, but this is still the last Real Chapter. I don't wanna make any promises on when said epilogue will be up, but i'm hoping it won't be as long as the wait between this chapter and the last, at least.
> 
> with all that said...here we go i guess

A lot of unexpected things have happened in Jisung’s life. He discovered he had superpowers. He found the courage to move away from home. He found a new family despite everything.

None of that compares to standing in an abandoned warehouse, out of breath and aching, and realising that the man you’ve worked side by side with for over a year is the closest thing to a supervillain you’ve ever known.

The floors are barren and dusty, the high windows show brief glimpses of deep blue sky, underneath the windows is a walkway covering the perimeter, and on it stands a man. A man Jisung recognises. A man who recognises him. A man who he was never expecting to be there, but _is_ , and Jisung needs to accept that. He needs to let the reality of this sink in, or he’s never going to make it out.

“Sewoon,” he says. It’s not a question this time.

“Jisung.” The reply is accompanied by a nod, as casual as if this is any regular morning at work. “Gwanghyun told me you were coming. Never can trust a double agent, I suppose.”

Next to Jisung, Sungwoon says. “Jisung...you know him?”

Right. He knows who Sewoon is, but no one else has met him.

“He’s my partner at the precinct.”

The warehouse is filled with quiet murmurs. He can see the confusion on his friends faces. He wishes he could help, but he barely knows more than them. He doesn’t _understand_. Sewoon is quiet. He keeps to himself. But he isn’t...he isn’t this. Jisung has never distrusted him. He’s never thought he could be capable of ruining countless lives. In the end, he only has one thing to say.

“Why?”

Sewoon leans over the walkway’s railing and smiles.

“Please, Officer Yoon, don’t misunderstand me. I didn’t set out to hurt you...not at first, anyway. We landed where we are due to a sequence of circumstances. All of which you can blame on your newest...friend...over there.”

Finally, Jisung sees it. He sees the malice lurking underneath that easy smile. His words are sharp and precise; a slow swing of a blade is still deadly. There’s no emotion in his voice. There’s nothing. An absence of fear, of regret, of anything remotely human. It sends a chill down his spine.

If Sewoon’s voice is the slow swing of a blade, Jihoon’s is the sharp stab of a straight razor.

“Don’t you dare try to blame this on Woojin. Don’t you dare even _mention_ him. He did nothing to you. He did nothing to deserve what you put him through. Neither of us did.”

“Deserve?” He laughs. “That's an objective term, don’t you think? Who decides what we deserve? Did you deserve what you got in life? Did I deserve what I got? Do you deserve what’s about to happen to you now?”

The door behind them flies open. A swarm of people, faceless in their numbers, suddenly have them surrounded. Jisung doesn’t know where they came from, but he can take a damn good guess why they’re here. Just because they’ve reached the end doesn’t mean the fight is over.

The people— how many of them are there? Twelve? Fifteen? Twenty? — all attack at the same time, as if on cue. Jisung blocks the incoming punch, then lets his mind go blank of everything except his training and his family, and he fights.

He’s been in more than his fair share of fights at this point. He knows how to punch, kick and dodge. He’s practiced hold after hold, and escaping each of them. He knows what he’s doing. But he knows that although he’s an experienced fighter, he’s not a particularly _skilled_ one. He knows the basics, really, and nothing more. Some people spend years studying fighting like an art. Some people don’t hold back, because unlike Jisung they’re actually willing to kill rather than just incapacitate.

He realises he’s fighting that kind of person when the knife goes through his arm.

The pain makes his mind go white as red blood drips down his skin. He gasps. It feels like all the air has been stolen from his lungs. He barely notices the fist colliding with his face until his head hits the floor. The knife still in his arm is jostled in the landing, ripping through more skin like paper.

Maybe he really will die here. It’s a fleeting thought, immediately replaced by a rush of panic as he forces himself to turn his head and make sure his friends are okay. They’re all still standing, moving, blurs of motion that show they’re in a better state than he is right now. Good.

“Tell me,” Sewoon’s voice echoes from above them, safely away from the fray. “Do you deserve this? You’ll probably say no, right? Maybe I’d agree, but even if you die here, I suppose that at least you die together. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Jisung _can’t_ die here. Not yet. Not until he gets the answers he wants. Not until he knows that his family is safe. He glances at the knife in his bicep, forcing down the urge to flinch at the sight of glinting silver peeking out between streaks of red. It hasn’t punctured any important arteries. He pulls it out, biting his lip so he doesn’t scream. He thinks he can taste blood in his mouth now. Blood. So much blood.

_‘Why was there so much blood, Jisung?’_ Minhyun’s voice echoes in his head.

He tears his shirt with trembling hands and fashions a bandage around his arm. It’s the most he can do, for now, without Daniel. Daniel, who he realises has taken over fighting the person who stabbed Jisung, giving him the time to patch himself up. Jisung’s grateful that the knife was lodged into his flesh because now it lies harmlessly on the floor. Daniel doesn't have to worry about that, at least.

Still, Daniel’s no more of a skilled fighter than Jisung is.

The knife seems to taunt Jisung from where it lies next to him...harmless...is it really harmless?

He sees himself picking it up and stabbing into the man’s leg that’s so easily in reach, right through the femoral artery. Death in minutes. Not a threat to them anymore.

He blinks. The knife is still on the floor next to him. He can’t. Killing someone is never the answer, and even if it was, he doesn’t think he could ever bring himself to do it. He’s...he’s their leader. A leader needs to set an example. He kicks the knife away and watches it clatter against the wall, far away from the fight.

He catches Daniel’s eye and sends him a look that tells him he’s ready to take over from here. Daniel offers him a weak smile before moving away just as Jisung gets back to his feet and throws himself back into the fight.

The next few minutes blur into automatic movements that he struggles to remember afterwards, clarity only coming with bursts of pain and the noise all around him. It’s _loud_ , screams and grunts and Sewoon’s too calm voice filling the spacious warehouse.

“What are you aiming to do here? You managed to free yourselves from my control, why make the journey here? Why go through all this?”

In a way, his head is clearer than it was when he first walked in here, despite everything going on around him. Now that the shock has worn off, it makes all too much sense that it was Sewoon all along. Sewoon was with him when he’d started to suspect Hyungseob for no good reason, and again when he’d had a brief moment of clarity after arresting Hyungseob only to fall straight back into hating him. As a police officer, he had connections to all those people who had committed crimes while under his control. He came over to the house just days ago, though Jisung realises now he’d never told him where he lives. They’d never spoken much at all. Sewoon had always been quiet, withdrawn, but Jisung had never thought it suspicious until now. He’d opened up to Jisung only once, right after they’d arrested Ahn Hyungseob. He’d asked if Jisung had a family. He’d said he didn’t have one of his own.

_‘It’s just me and the job most of the time. But I’m used to that.’_

_‘No wonder,’_ Jisung thinks, throwing a carefully aimed punch at the person in front of him.

The person grabs his arm, twists it, throws him to the floor again.

He catches himself on the palms of his hands. History floods his senses. All the years ingrained into these floors, all the people who’ve walked through these walls, every moment Sewoon has spent here.  Suddenly, it maybe, possibly, makes even more sense than before.

He’s shouting up to the walkway above before he’s even truly registered he’s back in the present.

“We can talk! You don’t have to hide! Just….call this off, please.”

Nothing. Nothing, except a scream. It pierces straight through his heart, sharper than any knife. He jumps to his feet, only to feel himself sliding straight back onto the floor. What?

Dread settles in his stomach, but he steels himself and looks down. Puddling on the floor, covering the heel of his shoes, even splattered on his pant leg, is slick, red blood.

 

* * *

 

  1. Fight. Kick, punch, Whatever it takes.
  2. Check everyone is okay
  3. Don’t freak out. No matter how much you’re thinking about that vision, don’t freak out.



The same thoughts have been running through Minhyun’s head for what feels like hours now, though it can’t have been more than minutes. He’s almost glad that his opponent keeps dodging his moves because he thinks if he had to stay still for even a second he’d start breaking down.

The smell of rust hits his nostrils again. He tells himself it’s just from his own injuries. It doesn’t work.

  1. Fight. Kick, punch, whatever it takes.
  2. Check everyone is okay.
  3. Don’t freak out. No matter what happens, don’t freak out.



This is probably the longest fight of his life against a single opponent. They’re more muscular him. Hell, they’re probably more muscular that most people. He can feel it every time they land a blow, more equivalent to blunt force trauma than an average punch. Still, he’s holding out, and they seem to be faltering. If he can just find an opening...then...there.

He lodges his foot in their stomach and they crash to the ground, finally, finally out. For a moment, he’s concerned about the puddle of blood beneath their skull, until he realises it was already there. That does nothing to ease his worries, it only makes them worse.

There’s a shout. Jisung saying something he doesn’t quite catch. Then, there’s a scream.

_‘...fighting, screaming, blood…’_

Everything seems to grind to a halt. Not all at once, but in a stutter. Minhyun stops too, wondering what’s going on, why something so chaotic and hectic just seemed to _end_ , then he realises it’s because it was stopped. Sewoon, still standing above them, called off the fight. Their attackers start to move again, this time flooding back through the door they’d came through. As they move away, piece by piece, a horrifying sight unfolds before Minhyun’s eyes.

Daniel is lying on the ground, blood pooling around him, and this time, it’s unmistakably his. Minhyun can even see where it’s seeping through his shirt at the shoulder.

Everyone is already gathering around him. Minhyun moves. Runs, he thinks, but it’s all in slow motion. When he reaches Daniel he has to watch his step to avoid the blood and people all around him.

Daniel is breathing, eyes open, the ghost of a smile on his face. Minhyun feels his lungs crush then expand, filling up with oxygen he didn’t realise he was missing. Everyone’s talking over each other, and Minhyun can’t make out a word. Daniel probably can’t either, if the furrow of his brow is anything to go by, but maybe that’s just the pain— god, he can’t imagine how much it must hurt— but still, Minhyun shushes them. He kneels down next to Daniel and speaks, low and clear despite the panic crushing his insides.

“What— what happened?”

Daniel laughs, more breath than noise. Slowly, with trembling hands, he pulls his shirt away from his shoulder. Minhyun realises the wound extends way past there, dragging down his arm. There’s a scrap of fabric wrapped around the worst of it, soaked through.

“That room back there was really full of junk, huh? I— got cut on something sharp when we were getting thrown around. I...hoped it would stop...but I guess it was worse than I thought.”

Worse is an understatement. It’s deep, harsh and jagged, the skin torn right through. It’s bad enough as it is, but Daniel has been ignoring it...he’s...he’s been bleeding for as long as half an hour now. Blood loss. He’s suffering from a serious case of blood loss, and it’s not stopping. They’re trapped in here, and the only person who could fix him is himself, except he can’t, because his powers don’t work on himself. Why would they? Why would it be that easy when instead there could be fighting and screaming and blood?

“How does it feel?” Sewoon’s voice rings through the room. “Watching your friend on death’s door? Knowing that soon enough someone you love so much will be gone forever? And, in a way, it’s all your fault?”

Minhyun doesn’t know what to say. What can you say to that? Should they even say anything? Should they fight, now that there’s no one between them and Sewoon? Or should they stay by Daniel’s side and beg for a way out so they can get him to a hospital?

Jisung answers for him, staring up at Sewoon with a gaze of steel. Minhyun doesn’t think he’s ever heard him sound so cold.

“You wouldn’t know, would you?” He spits. “You sit here, holed up in your warehouse, alone except for the people you’ve manipulated into working for you. But please...I don’t care what you’ve done...we’ll leave you alone...just let us help him. I know why you’re doing this. I can help you, just help him first.”

Minhyun doesn’t want to tear his eyes away from Daniel. He’s scared that if he looks away, Daniel will just disappear. He’ll be gone, forever, and this time Minhyun won’t even have something to look for. Still, he catches Sewoon’s expression out of the corner of his eye. For a moment, his eyes widen and his lips curl, before he covers it up with that same neutral, impassive face Minhyun has come to expect.

“You know, I never did figure out what your power is, officer Yoon. I expected it wasn’t something necessarily visible, but other than that I wasn’t sure. So, what is it? Telepathy? Enhanced analytical skills? Thinking you know everything when you have no idea what you’re talking about?”

Jisung ignores the question. He just laughs. Minhyun can’t hear any humour in it. It’s a mix of bitter and unhinged and so not like Jisung that it makes Minhyun shudder. Still lying on the ground, Daniel frowns.

“Tell me, then, _Sewoon,_ what don’t I know?!”

Daniel coughs, weak and gurgling, and Jisung glances over. It’s like a switch has flipped, and all the anger drains out of his voice. He wraps his hand in Daniel’s, squeezing tightly, and whispers.

“You’re going to be okay. I...I won’t let...I can’t…” He turns to Sewoon again. “Look, just...call an ambulance...let us go...I’ll forget all about this if you just help me save him. That’s...that’s what we do, right? We’re partners! We’re supposed to help people together!”

“There is no _we_.” Sewoon hisses. “It’s just me. It’s always been just me! Why should I help you? Don’t you have enough friends? You don’t know what it’s like to be alone. Why do I deserve to be alone but everyone else gets to have people who care about them?”

“That’s it,” Minhyun says, realisation setting numbly in his chest. “You did all this because you were alone. You did this because...because you were _jealous_ of people who weren’t.”

Sewoon answers him, a poisonous edge in his voice like he’s given up on keeping that calm facade up, but Minhyun doesn’t _care_. He just doesn’t care about anything except his friend bleeding out on the floor. Still, Sewoon’s acidic voice drips over to him, covering the panicked murmurs and whispered comforts that he’s been attempting to tune out until now.

“So what if I was?” He says. “It’s not jealousy. It’s just making things fair. Why should everyone else get something that I never did?!”

Minhyun doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about this guy’s motivations. It doesn’t matter why he did what he did. Maybe it would have, but now he can’t bring himself to feel anything. His friend is still breathing, the rest of his friends are still standing there, barely-breathing, begging for him to be okay. Why should he care about the person who did this to him? Who’s tried to take his friends away time and time again? Who...might have taken Jonghyun away too? Still, this fight isn’t over, even if they want it to be. There’s nothing that he can do for Daniel, not right now, but he can fight.

 

* * *

 

“You _had_ a friend! You had the bo— you had Gwanghyun! And you ruined his life, just like you tried to ruin ours! Just like you ruined so many peoples’! Why should we have any sympathy for you when you got yourself into this situation!” Jihoon hears Minhyun argue.

Seongwoo and Jaehwan are sat next to him. He can hear them too. He can hear Seongwoo whispering comforting words into Daniel’s hair and hear Jaehwan begging— _‘No. Not now. We...we didn’t have enough time. Please. I...I love you…’_

It _hurts_ . It wasn’t supposed to go this way. He was...he was meant to _protect_ them— they’re the only family he’s ever had— he was meant to keep them _safe_.

He’s terrified.

He’s furious.

He’s...he’s losing control.

He can feel _power_ sparking in his core, red and pink and bright like fireworks, hot and angry and consuming like fire.

It grows and he loses himself to it, piece by piece, aware of what’s happening but unable to stop it.

He can see Woojin looking at him from the other side of Daniel’s body (Not a body. Not yet. He’s alive. Alive, alive, _alive_.)

He wants—

He wants…

No. He can’t think about what he wants, because if he does it might come true. It might _fail_ to come true. It might end in the opposite.

That’s why he _can’t_.

There’s blood pounding in his ears as Daniel’s pools around him. He can barely hear his own thoughts anymore. It feels as if he’s losing the last shreds of himself to something and someone he doesn’t want to be.

“Jihoon.” Woojin’s voice is as clear as day.

“...Jihoon?” He says again, and it’s only then that Jihoon realises he didn’t reply.

Jihoon finally looks up. Woojin’s eyes meet his. Something in Jihoon sparks. The world narrows to that spark, the smell of blood, and the look in Woojin’s eyes.

“I...I don’t know what to do.” Woojin’s voice trembles, barely above a whisper. There’s fear in his eyes, buried by the tears gathering there.

Jihoon reaches for his hand and tangles their fingers together while never leaving his eyes. His hand is solid, warm, alive. Jihoon thinks he can feel the blood flowing under his skin where their wrists meet— alive, alive, _alive_.

After a moment he says “I do.”

And he does. He knows what he has to do. Maybe in some way he’s always known it would come to this one day. A seed of fear in the back of his mind that drove him to be stronger, to be better, to be in control. He’d tried, and tried, but that control always felt so tentative, the barriers he’d built in his mind constantly crumbling, having to be built and built again as he forces the same thoughts and fears into his mind to keep the power inside him at bay. All those things he’d told himself didn’t make him feel nearly as calm as the warm hand clutching his own does.

If he was more of a romantic, if he had grown up with time to spend on pretty words and introspection instead of the cold, aching fight for survival, maybe he’d have something to say about how in the end, it’s the boy he can’t control himself around that makes him feel most in control. But he’s not, and he hadn’t, and even if he had this wouldn’t be the time, so he just clutches that hand tighter and hopes the small action tells Woojin...tells him something, a reassurance, a thank you, a confession and a declaration, all mixed up in the touch of skin and thrum of blood and spark of power underneath.

When he lets go, the warmth vanishes but the spark stays. Is the spark him? Or is it Woojin? Or is the two of them together? He doesn’t know. But he knows its power and feeling and control. It’s the need to save, to protect, to hold on to what’s his and fight for it until his knuckles are bone and blood. Blood is red, so is anger, so is passion. They say love is red, but if you ask him then it’s pink. Still similar, but softer, warmer, lighter. He thinks that spark inside him right now is pink, though before now he’s always seen his power as burning, angry red.

Sewoon stands above them still, a speck of colour against a backdrop utterly devoid of it. He’s silent, for the moment, staring down at them, _waiting,_ Waiting for someone to yell at him again, to scream, or beg, or hurl insults. Waiting for them to break down and give in. Waiting for the life to leave Daniel’s eyes.

Jihoon won’t give him the satisfaction of any of that. He can wait, and wait, time trickling by, running out, but he won’t get what he wants. It’s improbable. It’s impossible.

Want. What does Jihoon want?

He needs to think, not because he doesn’t know but because he needs to word it right. He needs to encompass all he wants in one perfect sentence, _‘It’s 100% probable that…’,_ that Daniel will be okay, that they’ll all be okay, that they’ll get out of this safe and sound, that Sewoon won’t hurt them, won’t hurt anyone again.

It’s 100% probable that they’ll win.

Win. That’s what they need to do, because this is a fight. It wouldn’t be a win if Sewoon wasn’t stopped, it wouldn’t be a win if they didn’t all get out of here, it wouldn’t be a win if they lost Daniel.

He thinks it again.

It’s 100% probable that we’ll win.

It’s 100% probable that we’ll _win_.

It’s 100% probable that _we’ll_ win.

_It’s 100% probable that we’ll win._

The spark becomes a flash. The room is bathed in a pink glow, cascading over them like storm clouds, and Jihoon feels powerful but unafraid. It’s bright, blinding, but he doesn’t flinch. Why should he? This is him. This is them. All of them, because he wouldn’t be _him_ without them.

The glow fades, dissipating so fast it might never have been there at all. When it does, Jihoon runs to Daniel’s side.

He’s lying too still in that same pool of blood. Jihoon’s mind rushes with a panic he thought he’d forgotten— had it gone wrong? Had he just made it worse? _Had he killed Daniel?_

A cough, a small, simple gesture of life, and Daniel pushed himself up on his hands. His hands that are red but there’s a smile on his face even as he blinks in confusion. There’s silence, then tears, everybody moving, reaching out, touching, to make sure this is real.

Jihoon pulls Daniel into a hug. He’s alive. They’re alive. It’s real. And they’re going to win.

From above, Sewoon is staring at them, slack-jawed as he watches Seongwoo and Jaehwan wrap Daniel in their arms and everyone else fuss around him. Sewoon had studied and spied on them, but somehow, he never saw this coming.

He turns to Jihoon with fire in his eyes.

Jihoon stares back, unsure of the expression on his own face, if there’s even one at all.

“I still have the upper hand here,” he says. “Maybe he’ll live, but that just means you’ll all die together.”

Jihoon stares at the man with the impassive mask and emotionless voice...huh, it’s a familiar sight. Familiar enough that he recognises all the tricks— little breaks in the mask, a tiny waver in his voice.

He has nothing to be afraid of, because they’re going to win, and now he sees why.

“No, we’re not,” Jihoon states. “None of us are going to die here, because you’re not a killer.”

Time stills, heavy with a pregnant pause. He knows it may seem like a long shot when the man he’s speaking to was ready to let someone die, at the hands of someone working for him no less, for what seems like nothing but resentment. But there’s a difference between killed, got killed, and let die.

Sewoon draws the line somewhere.

There’s an analytical glint behind Sewoon’s eyes as he finally climbs down the ladder that brings him to the ground with them. Jihoon doesn’t let his wariness show at the change of events. Sewoon walks up to them. Everyone is tensed now, ready to fight, but Sewoon doesn’t attack them. Instead, he walks straight up to Jihoon, stabbing a finger in his chest and hissing “You have _no idea_ what I’m capable of.”

“Stay away from him,” A voice suddenly speaks up. Minhyun’s voice. “And _tell us_ what you’re capable of. Have you ever killed someone? Did...did you…”

“Did I what?” Sewoon may look bored, but he swivels towards Minhyun, and Jihoon can see the slight tense of his jaw that shows something more.

“Did...did—“ Minhyun is struggling to get the words out, but Jihoon knows what he’s trying to ask. In the end, the wording of the question changes, but the meaning doesn’t.

“Did you ever meet someone called Jonghyun?”

Sewoon freezes in place, so sudden that it almost startles Jihoon...almost. He turns to Minhyun, stiff and jagged, like a puppet with the strings attached in all the wrong places.

“Who...Why...Why do you know that name?” Sewoon demands.

The look in Minhyun’s eyes as he gazes up at Sewoon is too emotional to bare.

“I know that name because I spent years with him, fighting next to him, loving him, until one day all that was ripped away from me. How do _you_ know that name?”

“I…” Sewoon trails off, and for the first time, Jihoon thinks he sees a flicker of a genuine emotion that isn’t anger flit through his eyes. He shakes that thought off. Even though he can see Daniel sitting up, supported by Seongwoo and Jaehwan on either side, out of the corner of his eye, the blood still staining the ground tells him that this man is still a monster.

Minhyun doesn’t seem to notice, or just as likely doesn’t care, and he doesn’t accept the sudden silence either.

“You met him? You knew him, you just as good as admitted it. That means...that means I was right. This warehouse, it’s the same one, and that means that you were the last person to ever see him. Where is he? What did you do to him?”

Sewoon blinks. Jihoon doesn’t realise he’s holding his breath until Sewoon’s quiet voice rings out like a shout in the empty air “I don’t know.”

Minhyun snaps. His hands are rough on Sewoon’s shoulders as he grabs him. Surprise flashes across his face, and Jihoon wonders if he’d somehow forgotten exactly what they’re here for.

“What the hell do you mean you don’t know?! You were there, you can’t expect me to believe you don’t know. You fought, I saw it, and then he never came home. So. Tell. Me. The. Truth.”

Sewoon jerks in Minhyun’s grip and in a flash Jihoon moves to stand behind him. He realises a second later that he wasn’t the only one who did, and that everyone is now on their feet crowding behind him, even Daniel, though he’s still being held up by his boyfriends and even then sways on his feet.

“I don’t know,” Sewoon repeats.

“Tell me,” Minhyun’s voice has lost the frantic anger from a moment before, instead he sounds tired and almost-pleading.

Jihoon knows that there are a few ways the situation can go from this point: the first is that Sewoon goads and gloats about whatever fate had befell the man Minhyun has been so desperately looking for. The second is that he closes up, tells them nothing, and Minhyun continues to scream or beg or straight up fight. The third is that he realises Minhyun’s grip on him, while tight, is easy enough to escape if you know how and he fights back. The fourth and final option is that he does what Minhyun asks.

Normally, Jihoon would think the fourth and final option is the most unlikely. But he demanded they win, and finding out the secret he’s been searching so long for would definitely be a win for Minhyun, even if it’s something he doesn’t want to hear. He presumes that that demand he made with the universe is why Sewoon starts to talk, but in the back of his mind, he knows he can’t be sure that this isn’t the way it was always going to go.

“He knew about me,” Sewoon starts. “I don’t know how, but he knew. He found the connections between me and a recent slew of convicted criminals, and figured out I must have had something to do with it. I knew he was on my trail, I _tried_ to shake him off. But, I’ve gotta hand it to your little boyfriend, he was smart, and I wasn’t as smart then as I am now. So, he showed up here one night.”

Despite it not being his story to hear, Jihoon finds himself waiting with baited breath. Anxiety coils in his stomach, mixing with the already permeating sense of nausea that came hand in hand with the burst of power he’d just displayed. He doesn’t attempt to squash either feeling, because he knows that no matter how he feels, Minhyun must be feeling a hundred times worse right now.

“I...I tried to get him to leave. I didn’t...I didn’t _want_ to hurt him, I just wanted him to leave. But, I should know by now to never rely on a kid playing the hero to do what I want without a little force,” he chuckles, almost self-deprecating, and although Jihoon doesn’t want them to, he finds his evaluations shifting in the back of his mind again. “ _He_ started the fight, just so you know. I couldn’t...I couldn’t _not_ defend myself...and…” Sewoon’s gaze shifts to the suspended walkway he was stood on just moments before, but his eyes are unseeing, caught up in memory. “He fell.”

He fell.

Jihoon’s breath escapes him and Minhyun takes in a sharp inhale.

He knows that Minhyun’s world is falling apart with those two words. Jihoon is already staring between the walkway and the ground, making estimations, judging probabilities.

A 50/50 chance.

He fell.

“I ran down to check on him. But like I said, I wasn’t as smart then as I am now. He was gone before I reached the ground. No fight, no body, just...blood. He must have ran, but…”

Not 50/50. If he didn’t die on impact, and had enough strength and the motor skills to get away, then there’s a 70/30 chance he lived. More, if he found a hospital, but if he had Minhyun most likely would have found those records by now.

There’s another factor, he knows, and Minhyun mentions it before Jihoon can properly weigh up how it affects the odds.

“But he didn’t come home. If he got out, then why didn’t he come home?!” The words are a sharp hiss in Sewoon’s face, but Jihoon knows the answer before the words leave his lips.

“I don’t know.”

Jihoon can’t help but think that the end should come with more answers, even though he knows that’s not how the world works.

Minhyun raises his fist towards Sewoon’s face, the tell-tale signs of an incoming punch in the ripple of his muscles.

“I’ve been looking for him,” Sewoon says suddenly.

The fist falls uselessly to Minhyun’s side.

“You’ve...what?”

“I’ve been looking for him,” Sewoon repeats. “I...I didn’t kill him, okay? I didn’t...I couldn’t have! I don’t know why he didn’t go back to you but he can’t be…”

Jihoon realises instantly that the words aren’t for Minhyun’s sake, but for Sewoon’s own. There’s a difference between killed, got killed, and let die. Sewoon draws the line somewhere, and wherever that line falls it doesn’t move. He would have let Daniel die but he’s haunted by the idea he may have killed.

Jihoon snorts. Minhyun doesn’t care if Sewoon killed, got killed, or let die, he only cares about that roughly 70% chance of none of the above.

For a moment, he thinks that Minhyun might throw that punch anyway, and maybe Sewoon does too because he keeps talking.

“You can have everything I found. It’s all on that USB-stick your little hacker is carrying. Keep it. Use it.”

 

* * *

 

Guanlin is suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of the USB-stick in his pocket as he watches the confrontation in front of him. He thinks back to the strange things he saw on the computer that suddenly add up in his mind and knows that Sewoon is telling the truth, at least about that much, but there’s still more questions to be answered.

“You’re talking like you’ll let us leave,” Minhyun says slowly.

That’s question number one.

Sewoon smiles, easy and distant, like he doesn’t have eleven enemies stood in front of him just waiting for their cue to get up and fight.

“Jihoon said it himself, I’m not a killer. I don’t want any of you dead, never did. I just wanted—”

“Wanted us to leave,” Minhyun finishes for him.

“Yep.”

“And you expect us to do that? Just walk out of here and let you continue to manipulate and torture people?” Jisung raises an eyebrow.

That’s question number two.

Sewoon’s smile doesn’t falter. “It’s not like I have some big, evil plan, you know. I was just a kid who accidentally turned my only friend against me with a power I didn’t even know I had. Gwanghyun never forgave me, but he was all I had, so I made sure he stayed. I realised then the role this world had decided for me, so I embraced it. Hyungseob? Woojin and Jihoon? I was just...playing my part in making it all fair.”

Guanlin feels a rage stronger than anything he’s ever felt before welling up inside him. The words strike a chord in him, and he knows exactly where and why. He doesn’t hide the burning disdain in his next words. He doesn't think he wants to even if he could.

“So that’s it? You made one mistake and then decided that’s who you were and you should do it again and again so everyone can hurt like you did? Don’t stand there and act like that was your only option. You could have changed at any time. The world didn’t decide who you were. You did, and you continue to make that choice everyday.”

At some point, Minhyun’s grip on him slacked, and now Sewoon finally moves away and glares at Guanlin with a hatred so pure that it would probably break his resolve if he didn’t feel just as much hatred of his own right now.

“You don’t get it,” Sewoon hisses. “You have all these friends surrounding you. Supporting you. Caring about you. I never had that, and I did what I had to do to even see something close. No one ever tried to save me. No one ever tried to be my friend.”

Jisung’s voice breaks their staring match apart. In a tone that leaves no room for argument he says “I did.”

Guanlin looks at him and instantly his burning rage simmers to a tiny flame. Despite everything, Jisung looks calm and in control. He looks like a real leader, and Guanlin smiles a little at the thought.

“I tried to be your friend, Sewoon. I thought we _were_ friends. And this is what you did to me.”

Sewoon falters. The poison previously dripping from his voice is gone in his next words, instead replaced by something unsure and defensive.

“It was too late,” he insists.

Jisung looks at them all, holding a silent conversation with them. When he gets his answer, he turns back to face Sewoon.

“It’s never too late.”

Guanlin feels those last embers of hatred die as he remembers the truth in Jisung’s words. He doesn’t think he could ever forgive Sewoon for all he’s done, to them or anyone else who’s crossed his path, but he also knows it’s not about forgiveness. Jisung is about to offer him a chance, and if he takes it, it shouldn’t be about forgiveness. It should be about trying to be better simply for the sake of being better.

“If we leave here right now, are you going to continue doing what you’ve been doing? Is that really how you want to live? Turning everyone against you instead of taking the chance that they won’t give you what you want?”

“I— this is who I am. This is who I have to be,” Sewoon argues.

“I didn’t ask that. I asked if it’s what you _want.”_

For a moment, there’s just silence, heavy and unsure.

When Sewoon breaks it, all the fight seems to have gone out of Sewoon’s voice. Guanlin wonders if it was ever really there to start with.

There’s multiple ways this situation could end, and more than one of them could be considered a victory for them. But in the end, just how they achieve that victory doesn’t lie with them, but with their enemy.

After all the fighting, and suffering, and bloodshed, it’s decided with one two-letter word.

“No,” Sewoon whispers.

No one is in the mood to smile, but he still thinks he can almost hear one in Jisung’s voice when he says “Then don’t. You can change, right now. You have that chance. You have that _choice_. But know that if you ever go back on it, I know where you work, and where this warehouse is, and I won’t offer you another one.”

Sewoon nods, rendered mute. Whether by the chance being held out to him or by the threat being levelled at him, Guanlin doesn’t know.

“Well then,” Jisung says, “I guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

Guanlin would be lying if he said that he really registered their walk back out of the warehouse. Maybe that’s because it seems so much shorter now that there’s nothing in their path. Maybe it’s because his adrenaline has finally worn off and pure, bone-deep exhaustion has finally settled in. Some things stick with him though, like taking over in helping to support Daniel’s weight and the bright smile and friendly ruffle of his hair the man gives him in return, like Woojin quietly and carefully asking “Do you think we did the right thing?” and Jisung’s response of “I hope we did.”, like finally pushing open those double doors he wasn't sure he’d ever see again and being greeted with the sun starting to set in the sky.

But mostly, it’s the breath of relief he himself lets out as he looks out at that sky and realises something incredible.

“It’s over.”


	20. Chapter 20

Jisung’s footsteps echo in the empty hallway as he makes his way towards the room he’s searching for. Though he can’t deny he’s scared of what’s waiting for him at the end, his steps are determined and unfaltering

Scared or not, this is something he has to do.

He’s grateful that the other officers normally loitering around the precinct, hunched over their keyboards and case files, have already gone home. It’s somehow easier to do this alone.

He finally reaches the door that he’s looking for, takes a deep breath, and knocks.

“Come in,” a familiar voice calls.

He does. The sight that greets him on the other side of the door is a small office, not unlike the other ten or so identical ones lining the hall. There’s a desk pressed against the back wall, a window above it, and a sofa and coffee table in front of it. On the sofa sits the familiar yet alien form of Ahn Hyungseob. Next to him, the slightly less familiar figure of Lee Euiwoong.

“Hello,” Jisung says, strangely winded.

Hyungseob sends a sharp nod in his direction. “Officer.”

It’s the first time he’s seen Hyungseob since the day he charged him with the assault of his best friend, and the first time he’s seen Euiwoong since he left the hospital. There’s so much he wants to say to both of them. That’s why he asked then to meet him here in the first place. He’d asked almost as soon as the paperwork clearing Hyungseob’s charges had gone through. A large part of him had been expecting Hyungseob to refuse or maybe not respond at all. A small part of him had maybe been hoping for that. But, to his surprise, though it took a few days of waiting, Hyungseob said yes...on the condition that Euiwoong came too. Jisung agreed easily.

He pulls the desk chair to the coffee table and takes a seat opposite the sofa. He absently thinks that the room should have a better set up, then remembers that this meeting isn’t exactly a common, or technically official, occurrence.

“I know the department has already apologised to you, and compensated you for our mistake.” This may not be an official occurrence, but Jisung still feels he should at least start the conversation this way. “However, I’d also like to offer my personal apologies. The way I treated you in the investigation, even if you were a suspect, was unfair. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t apologise.”

Hyungseob’s expression is unreadable for a moment, but then Euiwoong reaches out to hold his hand and a small smile blossoms on his face instead.

“Honestly, I’m just glad it’s all over. I think...what matters most to me right now is that Euiwoong is okay, and he is. Someone once told me you can’t change the past, all you can do is make the future better.”

Jisung recognises the words immediately, and he’s not sure if it makes him happy or sad to hear them repeated back to him. Mostly, it just makes him realise how much has happened between then and now. Ahn Hyungseob had been a catalyst that had changed his life, his first glimpse of something bigger, and he hadn’t even realised it at the time...and Hyungseob...Hyungseob would never know.

He’d thought over and over again about whether he should tell the two boys in front of him what really happened. It would be able to help Hyungseob understand why he had gone through something so painful, but Jisung couldn’t reach a decision if that was better or worse. It could lead to Hyungseob looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life, scared that at any moment someone could come and manipulate and destroy his life with a power he had no way to fight against.

Hasn’t Jisung already ruined his life enough?

So in the end, he’d made his decision. He still isn’t sure if it’s the right one, but he would feel like that no matter what he chose.

“You know,” Euiwoong suddenly cuts in. “I still don’t get what happened there. Even I blamed Hyungseob, and I don’t think I’ve blamed him for anything except that time he almost made me fail my econ quiz. It strikes me as a little...unusual, wouldn’t you say, officer?” For such serious words, they’re said with a strange lightness. Jisung can hear the smile behind them, then, Euiwoong’s usually brown eyes flash blue as he sends a him a wink.

Jisung realises that despite what he’d thought, maybe this time the hard decision doesn’t rest on his shoulders.

Euiwoong laughs brightly. Hyungseob looks over to his...friend? more than friend? confused, but smiles at him.

“Well,” Hyungseob runs his free hand through his hair, looking suddenly bashful. “If that’s all, then we should be going. We...we have plans for lunch.”

Jisung smiles at them. His own emotions are still swirling and conflicting in his mind, but he’s glad that at least, after everything, the two kids in front of him seemed to find happiness.

“No problem. We’re still looking in to the true culprit behind Mr. Lee’s attack. We think we have a lead with a small group who have a history of robberies. We’ll call you with any updates.”

He walks the two of them to the door, though he’s not sure they even notice. They’re talking amongst themselves, hands still clutched together.

After they leave, Jisung senses a pair of eyes on him. Panic consumes him for a moment, as irrational as it may be. Looking around, he finally spots Sewoon leaning against the far wall, half concealed by one of the desks.

“Officer Jeong.” He nods.

“Officer Yoon.” Sewoon nods back shakily, then seems to change his mind. “...Jisung. Are...are they okay?”

“So that’s why you were spying?” he asks.

Sewoon doesn’t say anything in response, but he has the decency to look at least a tiny bit ashamed.

“I think they’re going to be fine.”

“I’m...I’m glad,” Sewoon whispers.

“My shift’s about to end. I’ll see you tomorrow...Sewoon.” Jisung smiles. It’s strained, but it’s getting there.

Sewoon smiles back. It’s strained, but he’s getting there.

Jisung walks out of the police department feeling lighter than he has for months.

 

* * *

 

Sungwoon wants to start a mental countdown for when the lecture currently being held in the building in front of him will finally end. Sungwoon never wants to see another countdown in his life. Luckily for him, that mental war with himself takes up the time instead, and before he knows it people start flooding out of the doors.

He’s immediately on alert, searching through the sea of faces for the specific one he’s looking for. It doesn’t take him long to find it and he forces himself to move before he can rethink this decision out of nothing but pure cowardice.

“Taehyun!” He calls out.

Immediately, that familiar face he was searching for turns towards him. The expression adorning it isn’t familiar at all though. Taehyun looks wary, guarded.

Sungwoon can’t blame him. In the last conversation they had, Sungwoon had more or less said that he wanted nothing to do with Taehyun ever again. And now, here he is, waiting for that same person he’d claimed to have never loved.

What a fool he was for saying that. What a fool Taehyun was for believing him.

“Wait,” Sungwoon breathes out, approaching the other man with his hands held out in surrender.

Taehyun’s gaze narrows. “What do you want? If it’s your hoodie, then no, it’s comfortable.”

That’s when he realises that the sweatshirt Taehyun is wearing did in fact belong to him at one point. The black has faded to grey from too many washes, and it’s practically threadbare in some points. Sungwoon knows it’s not actually _that_ comfortable. This is a good sign, right? He can’t help but hope it means that Taehyun hasn’t actually given up on him, even if part of him thinks he should have.

“I just want to talk,”

“Okay,” Taehyun replies. “Then talk.”

“Not here,” he says quickly. “I was thinking maybe...we could talk at my house?”

That finally makes Taehyun drop his guarded expression, instead morphing into one of unadulterated shock.

“Your house,” Taehyun repeats. “You mean the house that you never let me see while we were dating? With the housemates you kept me away from at all costs? That house?!”

“Yes.”

“So let me get this straight. You are inviting me, your ex-boyfriend, who you broke up with, to your house that you never invited me to when I was your...non-ex-boyfriend?!” Taehyun’s hands are flailing around wildly. Clearly, he’s having a hard time processing this.

“Yes.”

Sungwoon doesn’t add that he’s hoping that after this Taehyun will once again be his non-ex-boyfriend. That’s a conversation to be had after another, equally as terrifying one.

Taehyun is lost for words for the longest moment of Sungwoon’s life, and he’s scared that he’s going to say no. He doesn’t exactly have a back-up plan here...at least not one that isn’t _‘keep pestering him until he gives in’._

“...Okay,” Taehyun finally says. “I’ll do it. Lead the way.”

Sungwoon almost collapses in relief.

It’s only when they start walking that he realises he hasn’t considered this part in his (already flimsy) plan. The subway station is basically across the street, so that’s fine, but then there’s the fifteen minute subway ride itself, and the ten minutes it will take to walk from the next station to the house. Despite agreeing to come with him, Taehyun still looks closed off. He’s even taken the extra step to cross his arms over his chest and stare resolutely ahead. They can’t spend the next twenty-five minutes in silence, can they? But what can they talk about? Sungwoon can’t explain now, not where anyone could overhear and he doesn’t have his friends around as evidence he hasn’t lost his mind,

"How have you been?” The words leave his mouth before he can think them through.

Taehyun raises an eyebrow at him.

_Fuck_.

“Oh, you know. Great. Well, I’m pretty tired from all the wild post-break up sex I’ve been having, but other than that!” Taehyun responds dryly.

Sungwoon decides to keep his mouth shut for the next twenty-five minutes, even if they’ll be agony.

The next time one of them breaks the silence, the front door to the house is visible in front of them. Despite his earlier agreement, Taehyun stops him before he can put the key in the door.

“Why did you invite me here? This is weird as hell. You realise that, right? If you’re planning to kill me, then about twenty witnesses saw me leave campus with you. If you’re planning to lead me on only to break my heart again then...please just don’t.”

Sungwoon ignores the shockwave of guilt that passes through him and says “It will all make sense once we’re inside. I promise.”

He puts the key in the lock. When Taehyun doesn’t interrupt him again, he turns it and opens the door.

Taehyun hesitantly follows him inside and they both watch as he shuts the door behind him.

It’s not even one second until all hell breaks loose. This time, hell comes in the form of Daehwi as he runs up to them and excitedly says “Hey, Sungwoon, look what I learned to do.”

He’s thrown into the wall by a forcefield.

It doesn’t hurt, but he still closes his eyes on impact. When he opens them again, Daehwi is nowhere to be seen, and Taehyun has what is possibly the stupidest look Sungwoon has ever seen in his face. Seriously, if it wasn’t for the delicacy of this situation, he would have teased him about it ten different ways by now.

“So!” Sungwoon says, putting a shit-load of confidence he doesn’t feel into his voice. “How do you feel about superheroes?”

Of course, it’s not that easy. He ends up spending god knows how long dragging a shell shocked Taehyun around the house while various people jump at the chance to show him their powers and say things like _‘nice to finally meet you’_ or _‘and here I was starting to think Sungwoon made you up.’_

Once he’s met everyone, Sungwoon hurriedly throws them all out of the living room and sits Taehyun down on the sofa. He seems to barely notice they’re alone now, and Sungwoon worries that he’s seriously broken his hopefully-soon-to-be-not-ex-boyfriend.

“Uh...Taehyun?” he hedges.

Taehyun’s eyes meet his. “This is what you’ve been hiding from me this whole time?”

“Yeah.”

Suddenly, Taehyun starts to laugh.

Yep. Definitely broken.

“This is insane. I mean...I thought I’d come up with pretty insane theories, like you were a serial killer, or _married_ . But this...I never expected _this.”_

“I’d be worried if you had,” Sungwoon replies, still trying to hide his anxiety.

All the power is in Taehyun’s hands now. Sungwoon has bared his biggest secret to him. He’s told him something that he’s never told anyone, and he can’t imagine what Taehyun is thinking right now. He can do absolutely anything with this information, and if this comes back to bite them, then it’s all Sungwoon’s fault. He can feel his heart in his throat as he watches Taehyun, waiting for what could be the nail in his coffin.

“This is—” Taehyun says emphatically “ — so fucking cool!”

Sungwoon can’t help the relief that floods through him, even though he knows this conversation is far from over.

“It is!” He says quickly. “But you can’t tell anyone! Please, _please_ don’t tell anyone.”

“What? And compromise your secret identity? What do you take me for?”

Sungwoon takes a second to process the words and the wry smile on Taehyun’s face, then blurts out in disbelief “Are you making fun of me?!”

Taehyun bursts into laughter again. “Only a little bit.”

Sungwoon can’t help but be a little mad that he’s had the tables turned on him like this. He wasn’t supposed to the one surprised right now.

“But really, I won’t tell anyone. I’m still processing all this. God, I’ll probably still be processing this for the rest of my life. But if it took you this long to tell me, then I don’t need you to tell me I should keep it a secret. But...why _did_ you tell me? Why _now?”_ ”

Great, time for the second half of the most terrifying conversation of his life.

“Well—” his gaze drops to the floor. “Remember when I broke up with you? And that whole...thing? I kinda meant none of it. It’s a long story, but we kind of had to go fight this guy, and I was trying to protect you? Not that I think you need protecting! He was just super evil! Well...kind of? But the point is...I love you. I won’t ask you to forget what I said back then, because even if I was doing it for the right reasons some of the stuff I said was really not cool but...can we try again?”

He’s laid all his secrets and all his feelings out on the table. Now all he can do is wait.

_Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes._

What he says is: “You Mary Jane’d me.”

What Sungwoon wants to say is: “That’s not how I’d put it, but yes, now please answer me.”

What he actually says is: “I don’t think Mary Jane can be used as a verb.”

There’s a long beat of incredulous silence on both sides.

Taehyun smiles. “Well, I say it can. Are you really going to argue with your boyfriend about this?”

Sungwoon practically tackles him in a kiss.

They kiss for a long time. At first, it’s fractic and messy, both of them letting out the feelings that have been building up for the last few days. Eventually, it slows into something long and languid, both of them falling into the familiar feeling of their lips together. They’re out of breath when they finally break apart, but they’re smiling too.

“If we’re going to do this,” Taehyun starts. “Then you better never do that to me again. I want the full story, both of what happened until now and of whatever might happen in the future. Don’t keep me out of the loop. I might not know what the hell all this means, but I want to. I want to be there for you.”

“I promise,” Sungwoon says, then leans in to kiss him again.

 

* * *

 

For once, Minhyun’s eyes don’t sting as he stares at the computer screen in front of him.

In the night that followed coming back from the warehouse, he’d fallen asleep the second they’d dragged the blankets into the living room. The day after, he’d waited with baited breath for Jisung to come home from work safe and with updates on his partner. He’d come back exactly when he should have, unharmed, and told them that Sewoon had indeed been at work that day, and after a few false starts, they’d managed to talk and formulate a plan on where they go from there. It wasn’t until the day after that Minhyun remembered the memory stick lying in Guanlin’s pocket. It wasn’t until today he’d built up the courage to actually look at its contents.

The document on his screen has a catalogue of witness reports for anyone even vaguely fitting Jonghyun’s description. He doesn’t know if Sewoon got these from calls to the police station about missing persons, or through less tasteful means, and he doesn’t want to. The reports span half the country, and only about a quarter of them could actually be Jonghyun if Sewoon’s hastily written comments and Minhyun’s own analyzations are right. Some of them are accompanied by photographs, all blurry or grainy or taken from too far away.

It’s the closest Minhyun has been in a year. He’d lost hope more times over the last year than he’d care to admit, though he’d quickly shook himself out of it and threw himself back into his search. Now though, his hope is a blooming force that he doesn’t think he can ever lose again. Even if he did, he had more than enough people around him to give him hope again.

_‘I’ll find you,’_ he thinks ‘ _’I promise.;_

Then he closes the file.

The next one he opens has a lot more information to go through. It’s a digitised copy of the same paper folders they’d found in the warehouse. Pages upon pages of names, all victims of a pain no one but them can understand, all people who had a chapter of their lives unknowingly closed on them, all people who unknowingly have a new, better one on the horizon.

Sewoon has assured them he’s undone all his past manipulations. Slowly but surely, people should be waking up and realising they shouldn’t have left their loved ones out in the cold. But as much as they want to, they know it isn’t wise to rely purely on Sewoon’s word. So one by one they’re searching for the people unfortunate enough to have their names written in this folder.

Tomorrow, they’re going to visit Kang Hyewon. Hopefully, they’ll find out that Sewoon told them the truth. After that, Hyewon will have her whole future ahead of her. She’ll be free to do whatever she wants, and whatever that is, Minhyun hopes they can help her find it.

Tracking down everyone isn’t as easy as it should be. Although he can’t find himself fully comfortable with it (Not with a missing person’s case still open, not while his friends are still affected by the cruel words said to them under the influence of a strangers selfish manipulation, but maybe someday) he knows they need Sewoon’s cooperation for this. Sewoon is the only one who knows what happened  the months and years that came after these documents were created. Thankfully, he’s stuck to his word so far and told them all he knows. He’s trying, that much is obvious, and though he still has his doubts Minhyun truly believes that Sewoon can do this. He can become a better person, he just needed a little help. Minhyun can’t judge him for that, not really. Everyone needs a friend by their side.

It’s just a matter of the next steps now. The step of meeting all these people, of comforting them, of showing them that their lives don’t have to be defined by what was done to them, of being a friend to them when they most need it.

He ends up losing hours in his desk chair, going over the influx of new information he’s been dealt. There’s a lot of work to do, a lot of people to find, and it’s easy to get wrapped up in trying to get it all done.

It’s a knock at his bedroom door that finally pulls him out of his reverie. He invites whoever it is in and the door opens, revealing Guanlin.

“Hey.” He waves. “Jisung sent me to ask what you want for dinner.”

“Anything’s fine,” he says automatically.

Guanlin sends him a withering look. “Just pick something.”

Minhyun rolls his eyes. “Pizza, I guess.”

He expects Guanlin to walk off and find Jisung again, but instead he walks further into the room, planting himself on the edge of the desk.

“What are you working on?”

“I’m checking last known addresses and looking for updates. There’s a chance a few of their families have moved, and we should make the reunions as easy as possible.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” Guanlin nods. “Let me take over.”

Minhyun blinks. “What?”

“Let me take over,” he reiterates. “You’ve been holed up in here for hours. This isn’t just down to you. We’re doing this a team. You need to take care of yourself too, Minhyun.”

His immediate instinct is to refuse, to say he’s fine, he can do this. But Guanlin’s right. He doesn’t have to do this alone, any of it.

Now that he’s not absorbed in work he can feel the way his muscles are desperate to stretch out and his stomach is rumbling. Pizza does sound really good, now that he thinks about it.

“Okay. Thanks.” He smiles.

He gets up from his chair and Guanlin slides into it, immediately taking over from where he left off, and in all honesty he can probably do a better job in one hour then Minhyun has done in the past three.

“Tell Jisung I want pepperoni!” He yells after Minhyun as he walks out the door. “And you can come back at nine. Me and Seonho have a facetime hang out scheduled for then!”

“Got it!” Minhyun shouts back.

 

* * *

 

“You’re really ordering pistachio,” Jihoon says flatly.

“It’s surprisingly good!” Woojin defends himself.

Eunki sighs from behind the counter. It’s hilariously long-suffering.

“Guys, I love you, but can you please argue somewhere that isn’t holding up the queue.”

Woojin flushes. He’d honestly forgotten they were still stood in front of the counter, where everyone could hear them and had to deal with them blocking their access to one of the only two waiters on staff.

“Right, sorry,” he says, then reiterates “One pistachio milkshake, please.” just to be petty towards a certain someone.

Jihoon’s face darkens even more as he says “Eunki, you know my usual,” before sauntering off to a table.

Woojin follows him and slides in the other side. They stare at each other for a moment, a challenge in their eyes. It doesn’t last long, but Woojin is pretty sure Jihoon is the one who breaks into a smile first, even if he would never admit it.

“It’s so quiet,” Jihoon says. “Almost doesn’t feel like the same cafe.”

Most of the tables have other customers on them, engrossed in their own conversations, and some pop song is filtering through the speakers, but Jihoon is right. In their corner, next to the window flooding their profiles with weak afternoon light, just the two of them, it feels a lot different than the last time he was here with everyone.

_Intimate_ is the first word that comes to mind and he has to fight down the oncoming blush.

Thankfully, Eunki saves him from his own embarrassing thoughts by choosing that moment to arrive with their drinks.

The flavour dancing across his tongue only serves to remind him how much has changed since last time. The boy sat in front of him is proof enough of that. Jihoon sits there, sipping his own drink, looking relaxed and comfortable in Woojin’s presence. It’s still startlingly new, and Woojin ends up getting lost sweeping his eyes over the worry-free planes of his face and the light in his eyes that was closed off from Woojin’s sight before. His eyes fall to Jihoon’s mouth, not curled in a scowl or frown, but wrapping easily around the straw of his drink. Woojin has kissed those lips before.

“Why are you staring at me?”

Woojin jumps in his seat.

“I— uh— “

Is it too early in this...whatever this is...to tell Jihoon he’s beautiful?

Jihoon arches an eyebrow. “You’re weird.”

“You’re the one to talk,” Woojin immediately fires back.

He expects a rebuttal, but instead Jihoon smiles gently. “Yeah, I guess we’re both pretty weird. We’re _all_ weird.”

“I guess that’s why we fit so well together.” Woojin doesn’t know if he means the two of them or all eleven of them. Probably both.

He also doesn’t know which way Jihoon takes it. The dusting of pink on his cheeks is probably just a trick of the light (It’s easier for both of them if they pretend that’s the case, anyway.)

Their conversation lulls after that,  but the silence is a comforting blanket of warmth that neither of them break not for a desire not to or because they have nothing to say but rather because there’s no need to.

The sun slowly starts to sink in the sky, bathing them in a pink and orange glow. The words that Woojin was thinking earlier now leave his mouth unbidden.

“You’re beautiful.”

Jihoon looks a little like a rabbit caught in headlights. Woojin is sure he’d try to distract himself with his drink if he hadn’t already finished it earlier. Instead, he just drops his gaze to the table and twiddles his thumbs together.

“Is this a date?” Jihoon asks suddenly.

Woojin pauses. Is it? He doesn’t really know what he was looking for when he asked Jihoon to go out just the two of them. He simply wanted to. He wants to spend time with Jihoon. He wants to get to know him. He wants to fill in all the pieces of the puzzle that is Park Jihoon that haven’t been answered yet. He wants to see him like this, relaxed and smiling and so different from the person he thought he used to know. He wants Jihoon. He knows all this already, but despite that he’d never thought about if this is a date. It’s such a _normal_ word. One that wouldn’t have even crossed his mind in the context of Jihoon a few weeks ago. Can either of them _do_ normal? Woojin doesn’t know, but he wants to find out. Even more than that, he wants Jihoon, whether what they have can ever fit the narrow definition of normal or not.

“Yes. This is a date,” he says. “Is...that okay?”

Neither of them can pass off his blush as a trick of the light this time.

“Oh,” he whispers. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

Woojin’s smile is so wide it threatens to spill over the edges of his face.

“Cool. This is definitely a date then.”

“Good.” Jihoon nods.

“Good.” Woojin nods back.

It feels kind of like a challenge. It feels like them. It’s perfect.

Eunki shows up again with a bowl of ice cream. He insists it’s on the house. Woojin wonders if he was eavesdropping. He also wonders how he keeps the cafe afloat with his apparent penchant for giving out free food.

They share the bowl of ice cream, both still feeling a little shy. At some point, Woojin ends ups with a streak of vanilla on his lips. Jihoon proceeds to make fun of him, then wipes it off, his thumb tracing the curve of Woojin’s lips.  

When the ice cream is finished, the sky is streaked the most beautiful shade of pink that Woojin has ever seen.

“So, what now?” Jihoon asks.

Woojin smiles. He pushes himself out of his seat and Jihoon follows until they’re both making their way towards the exit.

Woojin reaches out for his hand. Jihoon meets him halfway and their fingers curl together, hands held loosely by their sides.

“Come on,” Woojin says. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'do you remember the words that I said  
> a long time ago, every night  
> the compass that i saw in my dreams  
> now, i know it's you,'  
> \- dear dream, nct dream
> 
>  so, this is it. safe and sound (even if the sky is falling down) is officially over. so, here's an overly sappy final authors note that most of you probably won't care about.
> 
> i started writing this fic not long after wanna one debuted, and now i'm finishing it the day after the first teaser for their last comeback. i've spent the last year writing this, which is wild enough in itself. now, at the end, looking back on it, i know that it's probably not perfect, and the there's things i probably could have done better or things i would have done differently, but i can't help but be a little proud of myself no matter what. this is by far the longest thing i've wrote, and i poured a lot of love into it and a lot of myself into it. i'm honestly very emotional that it's over, as lame as that may sound. this fic has defined a lot of the last year of my life, i've made friends because of it, my love for wanna one has only grown because of it, and i've became a lot more comfortable with myself and my writing because of it.
> 
> but enough about me, thank you so much to all of you for reading this. it's terrifying starting a big project like this not knowing if anyone is going to like or care about it, and if it wasn't for you all i probably would have given up long ago. this fic probably doesn't mean to you what it does to me, because it's honestly ridiculously personal at some points, but if you even enjoyed it on the most passive level, then i'm grateful. 
> 
> and remember, if you're going through something right now, the future might be uncertain but it's bright. there's always something to hope for, and there's always someone there for you, even if you might think otherwise.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me on twitter @kdnclub (the l is a capital i) if you want to be friends or send anon hate, or you can o that on curiouscat.me/luminaries


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